Shatter Me
by sea-dilemma
Summary: Women liked Dick Grayson. Actually, they loved him. And he loved them right back. However, his life as Nightwing gave him very little chance to have a normal love life. So, when he met Devon Wakeman, a seemingly very normal woman, Dick wasn't really sure what to do. Nightwing, however, was quite, quite sure what to do...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Young Justice_, or its characters, all of which are owned by DC Comics/Cartoon Network.**

* * *

**THIS IS A REVISED CHAPTER ONE. EVEN IF YOU HAVE READ CHAPTER ONE PREVIOUSLY, DO READ IT AGAIN!**

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**Author's Notes**: This started as a germ of a story, and has now blossomed into a full-fledged fanfic. For those of you who have read my _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ fanfics, _The Spirit Within: Part One: The Water Tribe Child_, and _The Spirit Within: Part Two: Spirit Born_, you will know that I love a good original character, and a good-looking male with whom to entangle her! In this case, the good-looking male is Dick Grayson, he of the perky butt cheeks and piercing blue eyes.

I don't know how quickly and how often I will be updating this - I am still juggling Zuko in my other fanfic, happily, I might add - but I vow that I will finish both fics!

This takes place about three years after _Young Justice: Invasion_. Dick is now an undergraduate student at Gotham University with many of his friends, including Wally West, who is now a grad student. For purposes of this fic, you will meet a Dick Grayson who is a little bit Robin and a little bit Nightwing. For any readers who are deeply into the DC continuity, please let me know if I have offended any of the laws of the Batman's world, as unwieldy as it is. Also, for those fans (and for myself), you will see some characters who have not yet been seen in _YJ_ making an appearance, including Damian Wayne and Jason Todd, among others.

Enjoy this, and please let me know what you think!

* * *

**Gotham University**

**Team Year Eight**

He wasn't looking where he was going. He _never _looked where he was going. He didn't need to – he had an innate sense of things in space. He could, in fact, almost _sense_ where things were. It was certainly not something that he had been born with. Rather, it was something that he had cultivated since acquiring his skills all those years ago. It was not, however, infallible. Especially when he was texting.

"Oof!" There was the sound of two bodies smacking together and the strong smell of coffee in the air. Papers flew everywhere and books slithered to the ground.

"I am _so _sorry! So sorry." He grabbed the girl's elbows to steady her as she staggered back. "Are you okay?"

She rubbed her forehead. "Yeah. I – I guess."

"I am so sorry." He repeated, ignoring the thumping pain in his own head. "I wasn't paying attention." He dropped to his knees in the middle of the student union and began picking up the papers starting to turn brown from the pool of coffee where they now floated.

"Here. Let me help." She squatted beside him.

"Did you get coffee on you? Are you burned?" He asked, concerned.

"No. No. I'm okay. Really." She took the papers he held out.

"Oh. You got coffee on your sweater. Look. Let me pay for dry cleaning. I insist."

"No, no." She shook her head. "Not necessary. Really. Accidents happen." She smiled at him and scrambled to her feet, and he did the same, wet textbooks in his arms.

She looked at him quizzically as he attempted to wipe the coffee off her books. "Do I know you?"

He looked at her intently. "I don't know. I didn't do undergrad here."

"T.A.!" She pointed at him. "You were a T.A. In one of my classes last semester. Chem!"

He squinted at her. "Oh, yeah. I – think I remember you."

"You're _Willy_, right?" She continued to point.

"Uh, Wally, actually."

She blushed and dropped her hand. "Right. Sorry." She folded the papers she held. "I'm not great with names."

"No prob. Look, I'm really sorry." He handed her the books, which were only slightly less wet than before. "Really."

"No, it's _really_ okay. No harm, no foul." She picked up her emptied coffee cup from the floor, and Wally snatched up his cell phone, the cause of the accident.

"I hope you didn't get coffee on your phone." She grimaced.

"No. No. Fine." He rubbed it on his pants to dry it, and turned it on. "See?" He showed her the display. "Works perfect."

She nodded. "Well – good. I'm glad."

"Me, too." He felt a bit awkward now.

"Well, it was good to, um, _run _into you. Wally." She smiled.

"Yeah. Me, too." He nodded.

She gave another smile, reticent this time, and was gone. He watched as she wound her way through the throngs of students in the student union building until she reached the doors.

Wally took a deep breath and sighed. _Idiot_!

He got a text alert on his phone and wearily swiped the screen to activate it.

_Smooth move,_ read the message.

He gave a groan. Of course the collision had been witnessed. Of course it had.

He looked around him, and saw his friend seated on a sofa by the large windows, a wide grin on his face. He gave Wally a mock salute, and, sighing, Wally made his way over to him,.

"You saw that."

Dick leaned back and stretched his legs out, pushing his backpack out of the way. "Yes. Yes, I did."

"Did you get it on camera?"

Dick gave a rueful smile. "Only half of it. The second half. I'm going to have to hack into the security cameras and download the whole thing. It is going to look _amazing_ on Youtube."

"Do not." Wally held up his hands. "Just – do not."

"Are you going to make it worth my while to keep it _off_ the internet?" Dick raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. I will. What do you want?"

Dick pondered this for a moment. "A favor to be named at a later date."

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Maybe a little." Dick couldn't suppress his grin.

Wally threw himself down next to his best friend. "And I had become so good at _not_ running into people."

"Well. Baby steps. You know."

"Yeah. Whatever. Look, if you tell Artemis about this – and I assume that you will – will you _please_ tell her that the girl I ran into looked like Monsieur Mallah?"

"Instead of a goddess?"

Wally wondered at this for a moment. "I don't think I would classify her as a _goddess_, but –"

"Oh, yes. A goddess, unquestionably. Look." He showed Wally his phone. On the screen was a still picture of Wally and the girl talking.

The girl definitely photographed well. She really was _beautiful_, something that Wally had not noticed while he was busy apologizing. With dark brown hair and brown eyes, and an exquisitely shaped face, she could certainly be described as one of the better looking girls on campus. Still, it paid to be noncommittal.

"Eh. If you like the type." He shrugged.

Dick pulled the phone back and looked at the subject in the photo. "I do. Emphatically."

"Besides – you know. Got my own goddess – and all."

"Good answer." Dick looked at the image again, and put the phone in his pocket. "So, you seemed to know her."

"She was in one of the classes I was a T.A. for."

"Chem?"

"Yeah."

"What year is she?"

"Don't know."

"Name?"

"No idea."

"Does she live on campus?"

"Couldn't tell ya."

Dick sighed. "You've been _real_ helpful."

"Sorry. I _can_ tell you, though, that she works at a diner on Elm. Professor Stapp and I went to lunch there a couple of weeks ago. Good burgers."

"Oh. Lunch with the department head – you're hot stuff." He gave Wally an affectionate punch to his shoulder.

"Oh, yeah. That's me." He chuckled, rubbing absently at his arm.

"Did I hurt you?"

"What?" Wally was indignant. "No! Of course not! As if _you_ could. I've been knocked around by the best – or the worst, depending on your point of view."

"That's true. You sure can take a beating."

"Yes. Thank you. I think. What are you doing today after class?"

"The usual. A little bit of studying, grab some dinner. Then I've got to go to work."

_Work _was being Nightwing – patrolling the city to protect citizens, and/or saving the world. Something that he had been doing since he was nine years old, first, as Robin to Batman, and then on his own, as Nightwing. However, as part of his cover, he had a part-time job at Wayne Enterprises, for which he collected a paycheck, but for which he rarely showed up. Luckily, he was assigned to no supervisor at the company, and so his absences at the company were never noted.

An alarm went off on his watch, and he looked at it as he switched the sound off. "Got to go to class." He slapped his friend's outstretched palm. "Hey, thanks for the information on the goddess, bud." Dick stood and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I owe you one." He walked off with a careless wave over his shoulder.

"That makes us even, then!" Wally called after him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: On the advice of my new betareader, shells210, I revised chapter 1 to include more detail. Please go back and read it – it's not long, so it shouldn't take more than 10 minutes or so...**

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**Gotham University**

**Three Days Later**

Dick closed the book with a snap and ran his hands through his hair, leaving it standing in spikes. "My eyes are killing me." He said to no one in particular, and rubbed at them with his knuckles. He had been studying in the library for over three hours, poring over old books about the early history of computers, none of which, ironically, were available on the internet.

He lifted his arms and stretched, and cracked his neck. At that moment, his stomach chose to growl, and he rubbed it absently. It must be lunch time. He looked at his watch. Nearly twelve. Time for a break. However, he was not up to getting something out of a vending machine. But he _definitely _did not want to eat lunch alone. He sighed, and looked at his phone. Who was nearby? Wally? No – he and Artemis were in Central City, visiting Wally's parents. Conner? No. To be honest, even after knowing Superboy for over eight years, he was still not exactly the chatty lunch companion. Mal? Eh – why not? Dick called him.

"Hey!" He said, as Mal came on the line. "I'm at the U. Want to get some lunch?"

"Yeah, okay. You want to meet somewhere?"

He shrugged, although Mal couldn't see it. "There's a diner on Elm I've wanted to try." Dick smiled.

* * *

She noticed the young man when he sat down with his friend. Handsome, with black hair, a fine, chiseled face, and straight, white teeth that he showed when he smiled at his companion.

She came to their table and put two menus down. Rich – he was rich, too. She could tell by the expensively tailored clothes and sleek wristwatch.

"Welcome, gentleman. Our special today is a tuna melt. Comes with fries and a pickle spear. Soup of the day is chicken noodle."

Dick smiled up at her, noticing her name tag - Devon. "Thank you." She was dressed in a typical waitress uniform – white top and skirt that came to right above her knees, with a red and white gingham collar and sleeve cuffs. Although it would have been looked dowdy on most women, it was form-fitting enough on her to emphasize her curves.

She smiled back. He had _beautiful _blue eyes – the bluest eyes she had ever seen. She looked into them for a long moment, then cleared her throat self-consciously. "Uh, I'll let you look at the menu. Be back soon." She turned and walked away, and Dick craned his neck to watch the sway of her hips.

Mal stared at him. "Now I know why you wanted to try this place."

Dick turned back to him and grinned. "I hear they have great burgers."

"And buns."

His smile grew. "Yeah. Nice buns."

She came back a few minutes later, her order pad in her hand.

"What will you have, gentleman?"

Mal ordered the special, and then it was Dick's turn.

"I'll have," he scanned the menu, "the All-American cheese burger."

"What kind of cheese?"

"American, of course."

She smiled. "_French _fries okay?"

"Yeah."

"How do you want it cooked?"

"Oh, definitely some pink in the middle. And a diet soda."

Mal laughed. "Diet soda?"

She looked at Mal. "Oh, yeah. I get it. Save calories where you can."

"Exactly." Dick smiled triumphantly. He turned the magnificence of his smile on her, and she blinked, then smiled back. "Oh." He said, handing her the menu, "and extra mustard."

"You've got it." She took their menus and was off.

After she left, Mal smiled at Dick. "I think you've got it, too. Bad."

She brought their meals quickly, and set them down on the table before them. Dick surveyed her as she bent over him. She was even more beautiful close up – creamy skin, dark, shiny hair, and, with a brief, stolen glance, he saw the swell of ample breasts. He dragged his eyes back to her face. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

She smiled as she straightened. "I don't know. Do you go to Gotham U.?"

He smiled. "Yeah. Third year."

"Me, too. What's your major?"

He gave a sheepish grin. "Haven't quite decided yet."

Mal broke in. "He's on the six-year plan."

"Thanks." Dick's eyes narrowed slightly at Mal.

"Any time." Mal picked up a fry.

"So, what are you studying?" Dick asked her.

"Science."

"Just general science?"

"Biology."

"Sounds interesting."

"If you're a science geek, yeah."

Dick shrugged. "Not so much. More like a computer geek."

"Hey, Bill Gates. Your food's getting cold." Mal already had a good portion of his own sandwich consumed.

Dick blushed, as did Devon. "Yeah. Right. Sorry. I shouldn't have kept you talking. Enjoy your meal." She smiled, stepped back, and was gone.

He turned to Mal after she left to wait on other tables. "Not cool."

Mal laughed.

When Dick finished his burger, he threw his napkin down on his empty plate. "That was good."

"I can tell." Mal took out his wallet.

"I'm getting your check." Dick waved away the bill that Mal extracted. "After all, I invited you."

Mal smiled. "No need. I pay my own way."

"Well, you're a cheap date."

Devon brought their checks and collected their plates. "Liked the burger?"

Dick grinned at her. "It was great. My compliments to the chef."

She laughed, and a thrill went down Dick's spine. _Wow, she has a nice laugh_.

"He's not so much a chef as a _cook_."

"Still. Nice."

"I'll let him know."

After she had gone, Mal laughed. "Dude, get her number."

Dick shook his head. "Nah. Too soon. Thrill of the chase, my friend." He rolled to the side, pulled out his own wallet from his back pocket, and extracted a twenty dollar bill. "Thrill of the chase."

Devon watched as the two young men left. That slender one was – _yummy_. And a bit of a smooth talker. Perhaps too much. But she did love a quick-witted man. It was icing on the cake, in his case.

She picked up their checks and the money they left behind; a ten from the tall one, and a twenty from Mr. Smooth. She looked down at their bills. The cute one's bill came to nine dollars and twenty-four cents. Twenty dollars was _way_ too much.

She started after them. They were already outside the diner, on the sidewalk.

"Hey! Mister!" She hurried after them, but he did not react. "Hey! Gotham U.!" Nothing. "Rich guy!"

Dick heard her voice behind him. "Rich guy!" That was him. He turned to her as she rushed up to him, clutching his check and his money.

"I think you left too much money. Your check was less than ten dollars." She held out the twenty dollar bill.

He smiled. "No. I meant to leave that. Keep the rest as a tip."

"That's more than a hundred percent."

"I really enjoyed the service."

"Well, then – thanks." Her cheeks reddened.

"No prob. See you around."

"Yeah. See you around."

She watched him walk off, a small smile on her face, enjoying the view.

* * *

**Bludhaven**

**That Night**

Dick whistled as he entered his apartment. He tossed his backpack and keys down on the counter, along with containers of takeout Chinese food. Kung pao chicken was the best. He had a couple of hours before he had to go out on patrol. He wasn't sure if he should go to Gotham or stay in Bludhaven. He hadn't seen Bruce and Damian in days, or Alfred, and he wanted to swing by the Batcave and catch up. He was particularly concerned about Damian – not that his little brother was in any imminent danger of anything, but he was such an _odd_ little boy, and Dick liked to keep an eye on him. Like Bruce, Damian was prone to fall into brooding, and, also like Bruce, he denied it and tried to ignore it until he was in a deep funk. Of course, their father, although able to recognize Damian's similarities, did not know how to counter them, much like he did not know how to counter his own dark tendencies. It frequently took Dick, with insouciant good humor, to pull them back – and he knew both of them better than anyone, and even better than they knew each other.

However, he had some research to do online before he went anywhere.

He booted up his laptop and pulled up the university's secure site. With just a few keystrokes, he was past their "impenetrable" firewall, and into student accounts.

At the search screen, he typed in the name on the girl's name tag. D – E – V – O – N.

There were three hits. One was a male. Dick could obviously discount that. One was a freshman. Obviously not her. The last, Devon Wakeman. He opened his dinner and broke apart the disposable chopsticks, pouring the chicken and vegetables over the rice.

Dick clicked on the file, and her student identification photo popped up on screen. He smiled around a mouthful of kung pao. "Bingo." He looked down at the container of food. It was good – just spicy enough to hurt.

She was a junior, like him, and from Gotham. Went to Gotham Central High School. _Hmm_. _A hometown girl_. She lived – at the same address as the diner. _Maybe above the __diner_, he thought. _Interesting. _

Her next of kin was a Marie Wakeman, at the same address. Mother? Maybe.

Devon was majoring in biology, with A's in all of her classes, except the last semester, when she got B's in two of her major classes. _Weird_. _People usually do better in their major than in the requirements_.

Her tuition was paid for in full every semester, by check. _Odd_. _She doesn't look like the type who can write a big check every semester_.

He fished the last bits of chicken and vegetables from the container, leaving the sauce-tinted rice behind, and pulled up university's student financial records. The money came from a trust fund, called the Wakeman Family Trust. He would have to look that up. He copied the account number and opened a new window. He pulled up his banking information site and pasted the number in.

While the machine was processing, he finished the rice and wiped his hands on his jeans. The screen flashed, and he peered at it. The trust was a relatively small account, set up apparently years ago, in Washington state. Its only deposit was ten years before, in the amount of $250,000. Since then it had grown, thanks to interest, and was being withdrawn from twice a year for two and a half years – with all payouts to Gotham University. The fund's executor was Lawrence Cramer, with an address in San Francisco.

So, apparently, she had a trust fund that was set up, he guessed, with an insurance settlement of some kind, and was being used for her education. Very normal.

But whose insurance was it? Father? That would explain the emergency contact being only one person; a woman with the same last name.

He went back to the university website and copied her Social Security number. There was one place he could find out the information he wanted, but he didn't like to hack into the federal computer system if he could help it. One too many times to the well, and the feds would pay attention, and then everything could come crashing down on his head.

As he pulled up the government site, he wondered why he was going to so much trouble for this girl. She was just a girl, after all. Nothing special.

_Liar_, his inner voice told him. _You haven't been able to get her out of your mind since you saw her_.

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and he got up to answer it. After looking through the peephole, he let Wally in.

"Hey, dude. How's it hanging?"

Dick shrugged. "It's hanging."

"I'm here for the crème brulee torch. _Why_ is it you have a crème brulee torch? Considering," he gestured at the empty food containers on the counter.

"Hey, you can't live with Alfred all those years without picking up some skills." Dick smiled.

"Yeah, okay. Where is it?"

"In one of the drawers. And try not to break anything opening them at light speed, please."

"Worrier." Wally zipped around the kitchen as Dick sat back down to his task.

Soon, Wally was standing behind him. "Whatcha doing?"

"Just a little research."

"IRS? Nice."

"Yeah." Dick was busy typing.

Wally read over his shoulder. "Davon Wakeman? Who's that? A new bad guy?"

"Devon." Dick corrected, and shook his head as he read the information. She had six years of income tax returns, all from employment at the diner, but, due to her income level, had never ended up paying any taxes, and she seemed to have no other income. Otherwise, the website was unenlightening.

"So, spill. Who is it?" Wally asked.

Dick logged out of the IRS site and pulled up Social Security. This should provide a lot more information.

While it was loading, Dick clicked back to the university site and showed Wally the picture.

"Oh." Wally breathed. "_Really_? You're doing a background check on the girl I ran into? Creepy, much?"

"What do you mean?" Dick scowled at his friend.

"Dude! You're doing a _background check_ on a hot girl. Does that seem _healthy_ to you?"

"I'm just interested."

"_Obviously_. But can't you just ask her for her phone number instead of pulling up her tax returns? And," he looked at the Social Security screen, "her vital statistics? What are you trying to find out?"

Dick shrugged. "Just information. She gets her tuition paid by a family trust. Usually a trust is set up as a result of a death in the family."

"So? So someone died. Big deal. You don't have to investigate it. Every death is not a mystery."

Dick made a displeased face. He didn't like to have his judgment questioned. "Yeah. Yeah. I guess."

"Do you suspect her of anything?"

"What? No! No. Nothing like that. It's just..." He trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"It's just that you're a little bit of a control freak and you want to know everything about a situation before you go into it."

Dick sighed. "Bat doesn't fly far from the roost, does it?"

Wally laid a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "If that's your way of saying that you're a lot like Bruce, you should try saying it a little simpler."

"Yeah."

"Anyway," Wally squeezed his shoulder before releasing it, "thanks for the torch. If Artemis doesn't burn down the building, I'll bring it back to you tomorrow."

"Take your time. I don't use it that often."

"Yeah, I bet. I'll let you get back to your – _stalking_."

After Wally left, Dick tapped his fingers on the edge of the keyboard.

Was Wally right? Was he _stalking _Devon? No! Of course he wasn't! He was just trying to get some more information on her. He had never actually _dated _a girl not in the _life_, except Bette Kane – and he had known her from Gotham Academy. Zatanna, Raquel, Barbara – they were all _familiar_ to him – he had worked with them all, sometimes even _lived _with them. But this girl, Devon, was an unknown quantity. And Dick wanted to know more about her. So, it _wasn't_ stalking. It was – information gathering.

He copied her information into the Social Security database, and waited for its response. It appeared she was born in Chicago, and her parents and one sister died in a house fire – nearly twelve years before. That explained the trust, and told him that Marie Wakeman was probably her grandmother.

Dick closed all the computer's windows but the one with her picture on it, and stared at her face on the screen for a long time. She was ridiculously gorgeous, no matter what Wally tried to pretend. She had dark, dark brown hair that fell to below her shoulders, and laughing, deep brown eyes, as well as full lips and high cheekbones.

Dick drew a deep breath and shut the last computer window, leaving him looking at a blank screen.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

He came into the Batcave to find Bruce at the computer screen, cowl pulled back, and Damian sitting at the wheel of the Batmobile, sulking.

"Hey, Birdboy, how's it going?" Dick deliberately used a light-hearted tone, and leaned on the closed door on the driver's side.

Damian scowled at him. "Grayson."

"What are you doing sitting there?"

"Father won't let me drive the car."

"Well, you _are_ only ten."

"How old were you when you started driving?"

"Uh..." _Tread lightly, Nightwing_. "At least thirteen."

"Tt. That's because your reflexes and eye-hand coordination were underdeveloped."

Dick frowned. "No, they weren't. World-class acrobat here, kid."

Damian threw open the door, and Dick demonstrated those skills by jumping back.

"Let me know when _Father _comes to his senses." He stomped off, and Dick watched him leave, sighing.

He walked over to Bruce and stood behind him, watching the images flicker on the screen. "Was I like that when I was his age?"

"No." Bruce's voice was clipped. There had obviously been an argument prior to Dick's arrival.

Dick shifted his jaw to one side. He would get no more information out of his father unless he did more prodding – which he wasn't certain he wanted to do.

"So, what's new in Gotham?" Crime was always a safer subject than family relationships.

Bruce squinted. "A gang war seems to brewing on the docks."

"Who this time?"

"The Sprang Bridge Soldiers and the Escabedo Cartel."

Dick frowned. "The Sprang Bridge Soldiers? Didn't Tim tangle with them recently?"

"Yes. I've sent for him."

"Anything I can do?"

"Not really."

Nightwing's brows rose behind his mask. "Anything for the team?"

"Not right now. I'll have something soon, though. It appears Billy Numerous has been stealing diamonds, and _only_ diamonds, up and down the east coast."

"Billy Numerous? I haven't heard that name in _years_."

"He's been off the radar. But he's back in a big way, and I want to know who he's working for."

"You don't think he's stealing them for himself – uh, _selves_?"

"No, I don't."

Nightwing nodded. "I can get Blue –"

"No need right now. I'm not ready to pass it off."

Dick looked at Bruce for a long time. He was in a bad mood – _worse mood – _than usual. The argument with Damian was clearly bothering him.

"He's a good kid, Bruce."

Batman sighed, and leaned back. "It seems like we are constantly at each other's throats. Whatever I say, he wants to do the opposite."

"Growing pains. For both of you."

"I hope you're right."

"I am."

There was silence for a long while, until Bruce broke it. "How is school?"

Dick shrugged. "Okay. Little bored this semester."

"Declared a major yet?"

This was a bit of a sore spot between them. Bruce thought that his son was dragging his feet, something that would only delay his degree.

"Not yet. Probably computer information systems." He leaned against the console and crossed his arms, facing his father.

"Speaking of computers, I noticed that you accessed both the IRS and the Social Security databases."

Nothing got past the bat.

Nightwing was slow in answering. "Ye-es." He made the word multi-syllabic.

"It's not for checking out your dates, Dick." Bruce kept his eyes focused on the projected screen, which somehow made the rebuke more humiliating. It was as if Dick did not even merit eye contact.

Nightwing blushed. "No. I know."

"I trust you won't do that again."

Even though he knew he was in the wrong, he was slightly miffed that Bruce was keeping tabs on him. Still, he knew that he should not have been using Bat resources for personal reasons. "No. I won't." He looked at his father, who refused to meet his eye, and sighed, pushing off the console. "I'm going to see Alfred."

"He'll be glad to see you."

"At least someone is."

At this, Bruce sighed, as well, and stopped typing. "I'm always glad to see you, Dick. You should know that."

Dick stopped a few feet away, his back to Bruce. "You don't show it sometimes."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I hope that you are enjoying this, and I hope especially that the characterizations of the DC characters (Dick, Wally, Bruce, Damian, etc.) are believable.

I also wanted to establish a family dynamic with the Bats – although Bruce and Dick have a good relationship, for the most part, in the comics, it is a father/son vibe that is, in my opinion, still a little rocky, as father/son relationships often are at this stage in the son's life, when he is trying to make all his own decisions and trying to establish his own identity. Add to that the fact that the son is inextricably entwined with the father in the "family business," and the fact that the father is somewhat distant, PLUS a difficult relationship between the youngest son and the entire family, and sparks are bound to fly! By the way, I DO know that Damian is NOT Robin in YJ (Tim is), but, for the purposes of this fic, Tim has graduated to Red Robin. I hope this is not confusing! Please review and let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **This chapter has a little bit of swearing. Not gratuitously, though.

Also, this chapter has been put up without benefit of being beta-read. I have, alas, misplaced my beat-reader, which is unfortunate, because she has a lot of great insight and a lot of DC knowledge. I'm hoping that she will turn up again, safe and sound! SO - I am looking for ANOTHER beta-reader (the more the merrier). If you are interested, please PM me. Extensive DC knowledge is VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!

Otherwise, I set up a poll on my bio page regarding the classification of this fanfic. Please vote and give me your two cents. It's very valuable to me!

* * *

**Bludhaven**

**One Week Later**

Dick slid in through his window after a long night of crime fighting. He was tired and dirty and his knee was killing him. He was tired because he had spent the better part of two hours chasing Firefly through the sewers; he was dirty because he had fallen in the sewers; and his knee ached because, when he had fallen, it had been onto his knee.

He dropped his utility belt, mask, and gauntlets, as well as his lightweight body armor, on the floor, along with his boots. He then peeled his uniform off and threw it into the washer, with three others all awaiting cleaning. Padding naked and barefoot into the bathroom, he stepped into the shower and turned the hot water on. He stood under the shower head and allowed the water to run over him until his skin was red. He scrubbed the sewage out of his hair and off his skin, and stepped out – to find Batgirl standing in the doorway.

He jumped at least three feet, and she laughed.

"Shit!" He grabbed a towel and covered himself. "Barbara! You scared the crap out of me! What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too." She ran her eyes over his form appreciatively.

"Well, you've seen more of me than I've seen of you. Recently."

"And that's the way it should be."

He sighed and grabbed another towel to dry his hair. "What's going on?"

She smiled and held up her cell phone. "Been trying to get in touch with you."

"Yeah, well," he walked past her and into his bedroom, "that's what happens when I drop my comm in the sewers."

She followed. "Are you limping?"

"Maybe. I slid down a forty foot pipe into a pool of shit and fell on my knee."

"And your cell phone?"

"Hate to continue the whole theme of _crap_, but..." he gave a rueful smile, pulled a pair of underwear from a drawer and slipped them on.

She tried not to notice his naked body again as he dressed. "Well, I can understand why you wouldn't want to put it to your ear."

"Yeah. No kidding." He passed her again on his way to the kitchen. "You want a beer?"

She shook her head as he opened the refrigerator and got a bottle out. "I really shouldn't drink and fly."

"Very wise." He popped the top off and took a long swig. "That's good." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why were you trying to get in touch with me?"

"Word on the street is you were after Firefly, our favorite pyromaniac."

He lifted a brow. "_Word on the street_ being Bruce's network of hacked traffic and security cameras."

"Did you catch Firefly?"

"No. As you probably already know. Why are you looking for him?" He pulled some cold pizza from the refrigerator. "Want some?"

She waved it away. "Why were _you _looking for him?"

"He torched an empty warehouse near Waterloo Docks. Your turn."

"_I'm _not looking for him. Bruce is. Apparently before heading to Bludhaven, Firefly set fire to a block of abandoned tenements in Gotham."

"Anyone hurt?" He ripped a piece of pizza off with his teeth and sat on one of the bar stools at the counter.

She leaned against the wall opposite. "A couple of squatters."

"Any idea why he did it?" He asked, his mouth full of pizza.

"Insurance, maybe. Cobblepot owns the block. He may have hired Firefly."

Dick shrugged. "Makes sense. I'll have to check the records on the warehouse – see who owns that."

"You think it might be the Penguin?"

"Maybe."

"Well, regardless, Bruce wants Firefly caught before he can set any more. Oswald owns _seventeen _tenement buildings in Gotham – most of the them occupied. If he is trying to get out of the rental property business, we don't want him to take all his residents out first."

"If I see Firefly again, I'll call."

"On what? A pay phone?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'll go by the Batcave and get a new phone."

"And a new comm? Or two?"

"Yeah." He smiled at her, and she smiled back. Standing there, in her form-fitting uniform, with blood red lips and make up that accented her wide blue eyes, he felt a stirring of longing for her. He found himself walking over to her and lifting the hair off her shoulder.

"Dick..." she began.

"What happened to us, Babs?" He asked, his voice low, his hand going up to her cheek.

"We grew up, I think." She smiled sadly.

He sighed, and dropped his hand. "You always were the level-headed one in the relationship."

"That's only because you're the level-headed one in everything else."

He drew a deep breath and stepped back. "Bruce says he'll have a new mission for the team in a couple of days. Although," Dick pointed out, "_last_ week, he said it would be a "couple of days.""

"So it probably won't be until next week."

Dick smiled. "Probably not."

She walked over to the window and put a leg through. "I guess I'll see you at the Batcave."

He smiled. "Yeah."

With that, she was gone.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

Devon flipped the lights in the kitchen off before heading upstairs. She double checked all the doors and windows, and made certain that all the small change from the till was in the safe. She made a run to the bank everyday after the lunch service, on her way to classes, and deposited the bulk of the money made in the diner. It was never a good idea to keep a large amount of money on hand.

She thanked heavens, for not the first time, that the restaurant was not open for dinner. That was a decision that she and her grandmother had made several years before, when Devon had decided to start college. Breakfast and lunch had always been the big money makers, anyway – dinner service was never more than ten or fifteen customers in total, and definitely not worth the effort.

As she reached her room, she realized how tired she was. She never stopped. She arose every morning at five to get the restaurant open by six, then waited tables from six until two. Then she ate her own lunch and changed her clothes and caught the bus to Gotham University for her first class at four in the afternoon. She had class from four until about seven in the evening, when she took a bus back to the diner and had dinner, followed by showering, studying, and bed.

And it started all over at five the next morning.

Weekends were infinitely better. Since the restaurant was in the business district, they relied on work week traffic, and were closed on the weekend. The weekend was when Devon did the bulk of her studying, as well as most of her laundry and light housekeeping. Her grandmother did the remainder of the housekeeping and all of the cooking.

It was a hard life, but it was all that Devon had known for so long that she could remember almost nothing else.

She threw herself down on her bed, and looked out the window. Through the leaves of the tree that grew against her window, she could see the moon. It was big and beautiful and full, and she wished that she could just lie there and dream – dream about life after college, life after this job, life after Gotham.

The text alert on her phone sounded, and she picked the phone up idly. Her stomach dropped when she saw the name on the screen – Larry. _Uncle _Larry.

_Did you do it yet?_

She sighed. _**Yes. **_She typed back, and hit "send."

_Any success_?

_**Not yet.**_

_The family is counting on you to do well._

She switched the phone off. She couldn't stand that guy. He wasn't even her real uncle – she didn't know why her grandmother insisted upon following everything he said like it was _gospel_.

_Because he pays the mortgage, and your tuition_, she told herself. _So don't be such an ingrate_! _Do what he says; the sooner you get it done, the sooner he will be out of your life_.

She turned on her side. Life sucked.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

The alarm went off with annoyingly loud promptness at five, and she fumbled to turn it off. _Crap! Five already? _

She rolled onto her back and stretched in the darkness. How she hated getting up in the dark. When this was all over, and she could leave Gotham behind, she would never, ever, ever wake up until the sun was fully in the sky. Ever.

She got up and walked to the bathroom she shared with her grandmother, who would not rise for another two hours. The older woman slept later because it was she who, after Devon's shift ended at two, would close up the restaurant and get things ready for the next day.

Devon washed and dressed in her much-washed uniform, and, after putting her hair back, headed downstairs. The cook would be in a little before six, and it was up to Devon to make coffee, fill all the cream and syrup pitchers, set out the butter pats to soften, and do everything necessary to run a dining room. Luckily, it was not a large diner, and she could run the dining room by herself, although, on a busy day, she did work almost without a break.

The cook, a man in his mid-thirties named George, arrived early and knocked on the window to be let in, rubbing his arms through his thin jacket.

"Morning, Devon. Wow, it feels nice and warm in here."

"Cold out?" She shut the door behind him and locked it.

"Yeah. It may be down near freezing."

"Good. That always brings people in for a hot cup of coffee." She offered him one, which he took with gratitude.

"Hopefully they'll order more than that." He added sugar to his cup and walked through to the kitchen.

"True. We can't survive on customers who only buy coffee." She followed to unload the dishwasher. "Especially with free refills."

"Hey," he said as he opened the refrigerator, "did you hear about the pancake house that got hit the other night over on First?"

Devon looked at him with concern. "No. What happened?"

"After closing. Someone broke in through a back window and stole the cash register, _and_ tried to break into the safe."

Devon's jaw dropped. "Did they get much?"

"Not from what I heard. Just did a lot of damage."

"There wasn't any money in the cash register, was there?"

"Nah. Nothing but coins."

"But still, a cash register costs at least a couple hundred bucks. And the damage to the window was probably a couple hundred more. That sucks." She carried a stack of plates to the pass window.

"Yeah. Hey, I think I hear Patti." Patti was the cook's assistant, who prepared the minor side dishes, toasted the bread, and made the sauces and gravies.

Devon let the older woman in, and all three of them prepared for the breakfast crowd.

As Devon had predicted, the breakfast service was busy, followed by a lull of about an hour before the lunch service began to pick up, with the diner empty of customers by two in the afternoon.

After changing into street clothes, she grabbed a sandwich, and bid her grandmother, who had come down to the diner about three hours prior, goodbye. She grabbed the money pouch to take by the bank, but her grandmother stopped her.

"Don't you have a test today?"

"Yeah. Why?" She put her backpack on.

"You need to study."

"I'll study when I get to school."

"_After _you go by the bank?"

Devon could see where her grandmother was headed with that question. "I'll _still_ have time to study."

"Let me take it."

"It's not a big deal." She smiled at the older woman. "I'll take it."

George, who was just finishing up cleaning the grill, stopped and looked at Devon. "If you're worried about her being safe, I'll walk with her. It's on my way anyway."

Devon looked at him with gratitude. "Thanks, George. I appreciate it."

"Hey. No prob. Go study for your test."

Devon pointed at her grandmother. "Be careful." She handed over the money pouch and ran out the door, headed for the bus stop. She had about two and a half hours before class started, and the bus trip was about a half hour, so she had two hours before the test.

Once off the bus, she made her way to the science building, running over, in her mind, what she had to do. She was supposed to go to Dr. Stapp's lab before the test. She hoped she would have some time to study; she really had not studied enough and she probably should; although she had started to lose interest in biology – she had always intended to study it because both her parents had, and she was doubting her wisdom.

Ever since her parents had died, she had wanted to follow in their footsteps and become a doctor or a researcher, as they had been. Even after she had discovered what they had done, she had still wanted to be like them. But now, all she wanted was to get out – out of Gotham, out of this life.

* * *

**Gotham University**

**That Afternoon**

She walked through the science building, her footsteps echoing hollowly in the empty hallway. She was looking for lab 13A. God, she hated this. She hated everything about it, but she had no choice. This was the hand that fate had dealt her, and, unless, or _until_, she found a way out, this was what she had to do.

She drew a deep breath and entered the lab. It was empty except for one person wearing a lab coat, bent over a microscope. She saw a familiar, red head, and frowned. She stood for a moment inside the door, wondering if she should leave, but, deciding against that, she cleared her throat.

"Um, excuse me, I'm looking for Professor Stapp." Her voice was loud enough to be heard across the room, but not startling.

The man lifted his head to her, although it took a moment for her face to register in his mind.

Devon's face cleared in a relieved smile. "Oh, hey! Wally!" She came farther into the room. "Fancy meeting you here!"

He smiled back at her, and leaned his elbow on the counter. "Oh, hi. How are you? Did your books recover from their coffee bath?"

She smiled and came close enough to set down the one book that she carried next to him. "They smell like Starbucks, but," she rifled through the coffee-stained pages with one hand, "still legible. What are you doing here?"

Wally shrugged. "I'm doing an internship with Dr. Stapp. You're looking for him?"

"Hey! Small world! Yeah. He's my Bio 317 professor. You're – you're not a T.A. for him, are you?"

Wally shook his head. "No. Not this semester. Maybe in the spring. So, how do you like the class?"

She grimaced. "I'm ashamed to say I'm having trouble."

Wally's brows drew down. "Oh, yeah? With what?"

"Pretty much _everything_. There's a test today."

"I know. I wrote part of it."

"Oh." She expressed surprise. "That's – cool. Is it hard?"

"Writing questions? Not really." He shrugged.

"No, I meant – the test. Is the test hard?"

He blushed, which, for a red-haired man, meant his entire head turned rosy. "Oh. Well. Yeah. It is, actually."

She groaned. "Crap. Ugh," she pushed her hands through her hair, causing her breasts to lift, which Wally could not help but notice. "I am _not_ ready." She sighed, looking sidelong at him, and her shoulders slumped. "I should have dropped this class." She sent a rueful smile at him. "Ever have a class that you just couldn't _get_ – no matter how hard you studied?"

Wally returned the smile. "Oh, yeah. All the time. I took this class in Vietnamese Lit once at Stanford, and I thought I was going to pull all – of – my – hair – out." As he spoke, she hopped up onto the counter and crossed her legs, and he could not help but notice shapely legs in a short skirt.

She smiled at him as if she expected him to go on, but he simply stared at her dumbly. She gave him an encouraging look. "You said _all the time_. Any other classes?"

"What?" His mind was befuddled, but he snapped back to the present. "Oh, yeah. All the time. You know. One or two. A history class, too. I guess." He was inexplicably flustered at having a girl who was all breasts and legs sitting on his counter. Wow, Dick was right. She was _really_ gorgeous.

There was an awkward silence during which she continued smiling at him, and he continued to stare at her. There was suddenly an electricity in the air, and Wally stepped back. "Uh, look, Devon, I'm sorry, but I have a _really _serious girlfriend..." he trailed off, his eyes averted, and a shocked look came over her face.

She jumped off the table with alacrity. "Oh. Oh. No. I – I'm sorry. I – I didn't mean," she started. "We – we were just – talking, weren't we?"

He looked at her, horrified at the mistake he had made. "No. No. No. I mean _yes_! Of course! Of course we were! I – I just thought. Wow. I _am_ sorry. I am _really _sorry." He gave an embarrassed smile. "Wow." He repeated, lamely. "I am _always_ apologizing to you, aren't I?"

"No. No. It's me. I didn't mean – I _really_ didn't mean to give you that impression. I – I – I was just looking for Dr. Stapp!"

Wally held up his hands. "You don't have to apologize. It was my fault. I – can't believe I made such a fool out of myself."

"It's okay. I'm sorry if I gave you – the wrong idea."

They exchanged weak smiles.

"Do you know where Dr. Stapp is?" She asked finally.

Wally was glad of the question. "He was supposed to come back here, but he might be in his office."

"Oh. Okay." She grabbed her book off the counter. "Thanks. I'll try there." She started to hurry off, but, at the door, a thought gripped her, and she turned to Wally, who had gone back to his microscope. "How did you know my name?"

"What?" He looked up, startled.

"How did you know my name?"

_Crap_! _Stupid, Wally_. _Very stupid_. He stood up and faced her. "Oh, uh – huh. I remember you from that class – last semester. Chem."

"Oh. Okay." She was not convinced, and she did not sound convinced, but, with a small smile, she let it go. "Um, good to – see you again, I guess."

He looked relieved. "Yeah, you, too."

Devon left the lab rattled. Not by Wally; she had expected a reaction like that the moment she saw him look furtively at her breasts and then away. But he _knew_ her name. She was almost certain that he hadn't known it before. When they bumped into each other in the student union, he hadn't even remembered her!

So how did he _suddenly _know her name? It concerned her; it scared her – just a little bit. How could he have found it out? Was he asking about her? Investigating her?

With no good answer in her mind, she looked at the clock on her phone. Less than an hour before the test. Not much time to study. It didn't matter. She would miss four or five questions and get a B. It was her M.O., and it suited her just fine.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I hope you liked it. Don't forget to vote in the poll!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Here we go again! I have to say that I am exercising artistic license with the future "YJ" and "Batman" characters. In my fic, genius Tim is an undergrad at Princeton, and Jason has been resurrected and has already established himself as Red Hood.

Forgive me my conceits!

By the way, I know I switch P.O.V. at the end of the chapter, but that's what happens when you try to describe what is going on inside two characters in one scene! I hope it is not confusing!

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Four Days Later**

"This is no way to live."

Tim sat on a stool next to the examination table and watched as Alfred stitched up a gash on Dick's shoulder. Dick sat stoically as the needle passed in and out of his flesh, but Tim grimaced.

Dick smiled at his younger brother. "At least I'm alive."

"Small mercies." Tim messed with his bo staff, tossing it from hand to hand.

"I do admit that I would sleep easier at night if you boys were in a _safer _line of work." Alfred said quietly.

"Ow." Dick gave an involuntary twitch as the needle hit a particularly tender spot.

"I apologize, Master Richard."

Dick flashed a grin at his family's retainer. "What kind of a man would I be, Alfred, if I couldn't take a little pain from a needle?"

"A normal one." Alfred smiled back.

"You could have died, Dick. I don't see how you are taking this so lightly." Tim's face was somber.

"All in a night's work."

"What's all in a night's work?" Bruce entered the room, his face still obscured by his cowl, followed closely by Damian, in his Robin uniform, but without his mask.

Tim looked at his father, a scowl on his face. "Ask _Nightwing_."

Bruce folded his arms over his chest. "I was."

Dick shook his head. "It's nothing. Just a flesh wound."

Batman walked over to examine his oldest son's injury. "Gunshot."

Dick nodded.

"Who?" Bruce pulled back his cowl.

Dick shrugged, then immediately regretted it, as his sore shoulder was involved. "It was too far away."

Damian, who had been calmly eating an apple, tossed the core away. "Sniper?"

"From the looks of the wound, it does appear to have come from a high-powered rifle." Alfred said, his eyes sliding to Damian. "Master Damian, the rubbish receptacle is the appropriate place for food waste."

Damian rolled his eyes, but retrieved the apple core and tossed it in the trash can.

"But who would want to kill me?" Dick's mouth lifted in an ironic smile.

"Would you like the entire list or just the top ten?" Damian asked in all earnestness.

Dick couldn't help but smile at his youngest brother. "Are you number one on that list, little wingman?"

Damian snorted. "First five, Grayson."

Dick chuckled.

Tim stood up and pulled his mask from his eyes. "You may well joke, but what he _won't_ tell you is that he moved right before, and it missed his head by _fractions of a second_!"

"And that's all it took," Dick said in his calmest voice.

Tim glared at him with his own arms crossed. "Aren't you concerned that someone tried to kill you?"

"Of course I am. But it's not the first time, and it won't be the last. We do this on a nightly basis, Tim. Why are you squeamish all of a sudden?"

"Because it happened right in front of me! You could have been killed!" He repeated.

"But I wasn't."

Bruce, who had been silent, spoke up. "I am glad you're well, Dick, but I'm concerned about this attack, and whether it was a crime of opportunity or pre-meditated. What were you doing at the time?"

"Talking to Tim on the roof of Gotham General."

"And how can you be certain it was you, Grayson, and not Drake who was the target? He seems much more likely to inspire animosity." Damian sneered.

Tim and Dick looked at one another.

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "Damian's right. It might have been either of you. Why were you at the hospital?"

"Just a convenient meeting spot." Dick shrugged as Alfred pronounced his work complete and left to return to the Manor.

"From which building could that roof be targeted?"

"Bradon Building, S.T.A.R. Labs." Tim unfolded his arms.

"Check surveillance cameras, Tim. See what you can find."

Given a task, Tim felt more in control. He nodded and walked over to the computer.

"You have a theory, Father." This came from Damian, who was studying Bruce closely.

"No, I don't. But _no one_ is going to target my sons. I want you all off the street for a couple of days."

"Don't you think that's overreacting?" Tim folded his arms petulantly.

"You think someone's after the Robins." Dick stated.

"Possibly."

"What if it's not just us? You could be in danger, too." Dick continued, getting off the table and grabbing his bloody uniform top.

"A danger _I_ willingly accept. For me. Not for any of you."

"Father! You don't need to coddle me!" Damian stomped his foot.

"You will do as I say." Bruce looked at him pointedly.

"I can make my own decisions."

"No. You cannot."

Damian kicked off the trash can that held his apple core and all the medical waste, and it went sailing through the room, bloody bandages arcing through the air. With a growl, the youngest Wayne stalked from the Cave.

Bruce ignored him. "Someone should contact Barbara and Jason. Tim –"

Dick, who silently watched Damian leave, lifted his hand. "I'll talk to Jason. You know what he's like. If he sees Tim, he might –"

"Shoot me?" Tim turned away from the computer.

Dick knew what Tim was hinting. "No. It's not him."

"It wouldn't be the first time that Red Hood targeted us." Tim asserted.

"It's not his M.O."

Tim slapped the desk. "It's _exactly_ his M.O. And _you _want to walk right into what might possibly be a trap?!"

Dick shook his head. "It's not him. I would bet my life on it."

Bruce turned to his oldest son. "You might just do that."

* * *

After Dick left to return home, Bruce detained Tim. "Tim, I mean it. I want you off the streets."

Tim stiffened. "I'll be fine. Someone has to find who shot Dick."

"And _I_ will. Go back to Princeton and stay there. Spend some nights just – studying."

"I can study anytime."

"And yet you asked for an extension on one of your papers."

Tim's eyes narrowed. "You're checking up on me."

"You _cannot_ neglect your studies."

"And _you_ can't shut us out!"

"This has rattled you. I can tell."

"Of course it's _rattled_ me! Someone tried to kill Dick – or _me_ – and we have no idea who!"

"And that's why I ask you to go back to school and _stay_ there."

"_That_ is not the important thing right now!"

"No. It is. Tim, one day, when I'm gone, _you_ and your brothers will be running Wayne Industries, and I want you – all of you – to be as educated and as knowledgeable as possible."

Tim's face darkened. "Then you'd better stay alive, because the _minute _that you are gone, Damian will push us all out."

"He won't."

"You think that? Then you don't know him." His face twisted. "Do you know _any _of us?" He turned and was gone, his cape billowing behind him.

* * *

**Bludhaven**

**The Next Night**

The next evening, Dick sat at a booth in a seedy bar and grill that Jason frequented, and waited for his brother. He had sent him a text the night before and asked to see him, and Jason had reluctantly agreed. He was, however, already twenty minutes late, and Dick, despite his familiarity with his brother's mind games and irresponsibility, was concerned, so, when Jason slipped into the booth, Dick gave a silent sigh of relief.

"Hey, Jason." Dick smiled tentatively.

"_Dick_." Jason emphasized his name.

"You look good."

"My heart's still beating."

"Always a plus. Are you being careful?"

Jason gave a mirthless laugh. "You know me. I always wear protection."

"You know what I mean."

"Whatever. I know this isn't a social call. Why did you want to see me?"

This time the sigh Dick gave was audible. "Why can't I just want to see my brother?"

Jason snorted derisively. "Because _no one_ ever wants to see me."

"That's not true. You act as if we have never made any effort –"

"Right. _We_. You, Daddy Dearest, the genius, and the demon spawn. Maybe_ I_ don't want to talk to _you_."

"You talk to Alfred."

At this, Jason blushed. He did call Alfred – infrequently – just to hear the old man's voice. He recovered quickly, though, and frowned. "So, again, I ask you – what do you want?"

"Someone tried to kill me last night."

"Don't look at me."

"I'm not." A waitress came over with menus, and Dick took them for both him and Jason. He waited for her to be out of hearing range before continuing. "Bruce is worried that someone might be targeting the family."

"Well, more power to them."

"You don't mean that."

"You don't know _what_ I mean."

"He wanted me to warn you."

"So touching that he cares."

Dick kept a grip on his temper, which was close to flaring. "You can't hate him forever."

"Watch me."

"He's our _father_."

"He may be yours, but he was never mine."

"I don't want to argue."

"Then leave."

"I'm not going to leave." He set his jaw stubbornly, and they both sat, glaring at each other. After a few minutes of silence, Dick finally spoke. "We miss you on the team."

"Oh, yeah? Who?"

"Everyone who loves you."

Jason snorted. "_Love_? They don't love me. They _pity_ me. I'm the cautionary tale, remember? The one who died?"

"They think more of you than that."

"Then I pity _them_. That Jason is _long _gone."

"And who did he leave in his place?"

Jason spread his hands. "Just little old me. Black sheep of the family. Not the boy wonder, or the overachiever, or the prodigal son. Just the lost cause."

"You don't have to be. You could come back."

"And live under Daddy's _rules_? Not likely. I'm very happy to be a lost sheep."

"You're mixing your metaphors." He had to smile.

Jason's face reddened. "Why don't you just leave? You've delivered your _warning_."

Dick lifted both his hands in surrender. "I'll go. Just – keep your head down, okay? Be cautious."

"Maybe it would be better for everyone if I _didn't _keep my head down."

"No. It wouldn't. So be careful."

Jason gave a bitter, lopsided smile. "Yes, Mother."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

That night, Dick went on patrol, despite Bruce's warning. He was not afraid of the unknown sniper – he had faced death too often in his life to allow faceless threats to concern him overmuch. However, he was afraid for his brothers, for Barbara, and for Bruce. Who knew who the shooter might aim for next, or when he might strike.

_Or if,_ Dick said to himself. They had no evidence at all that they were being targeted. All of the worry might be for nothing.

He found himself going by Gotham General again, in case the sniper made another appearance, but to no avail.

Tim had earlier finished analyzing the security camera footage of the surrounding buildings, and, although a shadowy figure was seen on the film, the person was unrecognizable.

Dick swung by the convention center just to go somewhere – he was restless and on edge since his conversation with Jason. His brother rankled him like no one on Earth could. Maybe because, although Bruce thought that Jason's downfall was his biggest failure, Dick _knew _it was his own. _He _had failed Jason more than Bruce ever could have.

Sound scratched in his comm ear, and he pressed on it.

"Where the hell are you?" It was Tim's voice on the other end of the link.

Dick shot a grappling hook into a building across the street, and launched himself towards it. "At home."

"Liar."

"Oh, yeah? How do you know?"

"Because _I'm _at your place."

Dick grinned. "Are you now? Shouldn't you be in Princeton?"

"Shouldn't you be _here_?"

"Got bored. Decided to go on patrol. You?"

"Yeah. Me, too. I was going crazy. I don't like being caged."

"Spoken like a true Robin."

"Yeah. You talk to Jason?"

"It's not him."

"So he says."

"I believe him."

"That's because you always see the best in him."

"I try to see the best in everyone."

"That'll be your downfall."

"Thanks, Mr. Optimistic. Don't you think it's time you go home? Didn't I hear Bruce say something about a _late _paper that you should be working on?"

"Didn't I hear something about a _C+ _in American Gothic Literature?"

"No, you didn't _hear_ that. How did you find out?"

"Uh." He could almost hear Tim fidgeting. "I gotta go."

Dick grinned. "Nightwing out."

After he finished with Tim, he looked around at the other buildings. Was there, even now, someone out there with a scope? Was he in the cross hairs? Despite himself, Dick felt a shiver go through him and, without thinking, shot out a grappling hook and swung away. At least, while he was moving, he was safe.

He did not want to go home yet, though. He had this frustration, deep in his core, that seemed to encompass all his muscles – he felt wound up, like he might explode at any minute, and he wanted to swing, and run, and fly and _feel_. A numbness had settled in since he had been shot, as if he had been looking at everything from the outside. He wanted – what did he want? He wished that he knew. He swung to another roof and stopped, looking off into the distance. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, willing an image to come. He saw her then, in his mind's eye.

Devon.

He smiled as he opened his eyes. He was a couple of miles away from the diner – he could probably make it there in a quarter of an hour. As he started off, he wondered what he would do once he got to there. He obviously could not walk up to the door and knock. What _could_ he do? Spy on her like a peeping tom? Sneak up to the window and peer in?

He had no idea what he was going to do, but he was going to do it.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later that Night**

Devon walked in through the alley door of the her building, into a hallway that ran to the diner's kitchen on one side, and to the stairs that led to her apartment on the other. It was already dark, but, by the glow of the low light that was always on in the kitchen and from the light that came through the window from the light above the alley door, she could see the shadow of the stairs, and headed for them immediately. She was tired and hungry, and the test had been harder than she had thought it would be.

_Well, Wally **did** warn you_, she thought ruefully.

With a sigh, she mounted the stairs and unlocked the door at the top landing. Once inside, she was greeted by Cuddles, the overgrown Labrador Retriever-mix who followed her grandmother everywhere. He greeted her with an enthusiastic snort into her crotch, and she pushed him away wearily. She made her way to the living room where her grandmother sat watching some police procedural drama.

"Hey, Grandma." She gave the old woman a desultory wave.

"Oh, hello, Dear. How was your test?"

"Lousy," she mumbled, and walked through to the kitchen.

"I kept some pot pie for you." The old woman called after her.

"Thanks." She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the leftover beef pot pie that her grandmother had mentioned, and sat down with a fork to eat it cold.

"Put it for two minutes in the microwave and it should be fine!" Her grandmother called from her reclining chair.

"Okay," Devon said around a forkful of food. She was too tired to stand at the microwave and wait for it. She just wanted to get something in her stomach, take a shower, and go to bed.

Devon heard the television go to commercial, then the shuffling of her grandmother's slippers as she came into the room.

"Did you say the test was lousy?" Her grandmother looked at her with concern.

Devon nodded without looking up.

"Oh, dear. Larry won't be happy."

"I don't give a damn how _Larry _feels."

"You should." Her grandmother said quietly, and headed back to the living room.

Devon pushed the food away, her appetite gone, and laid her head down on the cool surface of the table. She closed her eyes, and wished that her grandmother's words had been left unsaid. Her grandmother was right – Larry would care a great deal about her failure tonight. And Devon would be left to deal with the repercussions.

* * *

Nightwing landed on the roof of the building next to the diner. In this neighborhood of small businesses just outside of downtown, most of the buildings were older and not more than four to five stories high, and so presented little problem to a high-flying superhero like himself.

The diner itself was three stories high, with an alley behind it, and a delivery door that was well-lit. He wondered if Devon, when she came home after classes, entered by that door or by the main door in front.

He could see lights on the upper two floors, and guessed that was where Devon's home was. There was probably a living area on the second floor, and bedrooms on the third. There was a large cedar that grew out of a patch of grass between the diner and its neighboring building that offered a clearer view into the upstairs windows, and, with a devilish smile, Nightwing hooked a line to the tree and swung over.

He was surprised at how much the top of the trunk bent under his weight, and he overcompensated, nearly slamming into the side of the building. He caught hold of one of the larger branches and swung himself up, and, scrambling to remain within the shelter of the drooping branches, finally caught a foothold and hauled himself up.

His heart beating fast from exertion and a slight component of fear, he recognized that he was not as expert at swinging through trees as he ought to be. The fact that the cedar branches, unlike the branches of most deciduous trees, were supple and flexible, and gave little support, added to his general lack of confidence.

He braced his feet against the branch upon which he sat, and carefully made his way up, along the trunk, to the highest branch that seemed able to hold his weight.

It was on a level with the third-floor windows, and he congratulated himself on his luck. He peered closely into the room, which was lit by a small lamp just out of his sight, and he knew immediately, from the furnishings, that it was Devon's room. A bureau faced him against the far wall, scattered with the paraphernalia of the a young woman's life – a hairdryer, photos in whimsical frames, a bottle of perfume, make-up.

He could almost imagine Devon curled up in bed. He could see the bottom of that piece of furniture in his line of vision, and a slight smile came to his face. He wondered what she slept in – pajamas, a tiny nightgown, or, maybe, nothing at all?

_Yeah, dream _on, he thought. _Women never sleep nude. Men just hope they do_.

He returned his attention to the room. Above the bureau was the poster of a rock band popular five years ago, as well as a cork board with more photos attached and scraps of paper pinned haphazardly to it.

He resisted the urge to take out binoculars to read the papers; that seemed – intrusive.

_Oh, right, like peering into her bedroom **isn't **intrusive_, he told himself with disgust. _Do you really think this is **healthy**_? He came to a realization. _Wally was right; I **am **stalking her_.

He was interrupted in his self-flagellation by the sound of the door opening and Devon entering the room. Within seconds she stepped into sight, and, despite his recent tirade against himself, Dick watched her. He watched as she moved about the room, apparently preparing for bed. She wore a short t-shirt that hugged her curves, as well as a pair of pajama pants, decorated with hearts, that sat low on her hips.

_Shit, she's beautiful_, Dick thought. Her face was scrubbed clean, and she had her hair in a high ponytail, which she released, shaking her head to allow her hair to fall around her shoulders in an unconsciously sensuous way. Dick felt an erection growing, and he shifted on the branch to ease the discomfort. He was not usually so _arousable_, but this woman affected him in a way that he had not experienced since those first heady days and nights with Barbara, before it had all gone so wrong.

She walked by the window, and, although he was fairly certain that she could not see him in the shelter of the drooping branches, he held his breath and willed her to pass by without looking out; he did not expel the breath until he saw her feet beneath the covers at the bottom of the bed.

He waited a full fifteen minutes before he began his descent of the tree, and, landing silently on the ground, he melted into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: **I know, I know! You are going to say that the POV switches back and forth at the end of the chapter. I just love being inside both their heads at the same time, though, so that I can write a "he said, she said," (or "he thought, she thought") vibe. It's very _Rashomon_, believe me!

Thanks go out to sunflower13, who is betareading this fic as well as my _Avatar_ fanfic, _The Spirit Within: Part Two: Spirit Born_. I seem to have lost my other betareader, which is sad, but that means I need ANOTHER one! So, if you are VERY conversant with YJ and/or the Batfamily in the DC comics, and are interested, PM me. The more the merrier!

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Day**

Devon's head was a bit hazy the next morning. She was worried about what Larry might say to her, although she tried to tell herself that she did not care. The truth was, he had the power to make her house of cards fall, and she wasn't sure, if that happened, that she could rebuild it.

She owed everything to him – this diner, which was her grandmother's livelihood; her education, still incomplete; their apartment – he could take them all away if he chose.

If she was a failure.

"Hey, Pretty Lady, can I get some more coffee over here?" She was drawn back to her immediate problems by a man peering at her from the end of the counter.

She brought the pot over to him.

"Thanks, Gorgeous. What are you doing later?" The man leered at her as she poured him a mug.

"Cleaning my rifle collection." She gave him a tight smile and left him gaping at her.

She sighed as she put the coffee pot back on the warmer. She should not have said something so outrageous to a customer – something that could be considered a threat. But she was not in the frame of mind necessary to banter with, or outwit, a lecherous patron.

She walked back to the pass and picked up a couple of meals that George had just put out. The cook pointed his spatula at the man harassing Devon.

"You need some help, Devon?"

She shook her head. "I can handle it, George. I'm just a little off my game today. Is this for table 12?"

"Yeah. Hey, at least it's Friday."

She smiled. "Finally! I can sleep late tomorrow."

"What fun thing do you have planned for this weekend?"

She rolled her eyes. "Studying at the library."

He grinned at her. "You _are_ a wild child."

"I know. I might even do something crazy, like check out a book or make some copies." She winked at him and carried the plates to their destination.

Luckily, the rest of the morning and early afternoon passed without incident, and, after a quick stop at the bank, she found herself on the bus, bouncing over the deep ruts in Gotham City's potholed streets.

A text alert came in, and she looked at the screen.

Larry.

"Shit." She whispered to herself.

_How was the test_?

She sighed, and turned the phone off.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night **

Batman was angry. That was nothing new. He was certainly angry much of the time – it was part and parcel of his job. He _had_ to be angry to deal with the scum that he cleaned off the streets of Gotham every night.

However, tonight he was angry with four of the five people he trusted most in the world.

Nightwing, Red Robin, Robin, and Batgirl stood before him, all in similar stances, arms crossed in defiance, faces thunderous, masks off, cowls back.

Batman's face, still masked, was no less severe. "So, let me see if I get this straight. After giving _strict_ orders that _none _of you were to patrol last night, _all_ of you patrolled last night. Including," and here he turned to Robin, "my _ten year-old _son, who not only went out by himself, but who helped himself to the Batmobile, as well – _despite _the fact that I had _forbidden _him to drive it _at all_."

Robin stared back into his father's face truculently. "_You _went out patrolling last night, too, Father."

"As I said that I would. But that does not change the fact that you _disobeyed _me _willfully_."

"Oh, so you're allowed to put your life on the line? Just not us?" This came from Red Robin.

"_You _I told _expressly_ to stay in Princeton." Batman pointed at him.

"There's no good crime in Princeton." Tim grumbled.

"Look," Nightwing held up one hand in a placating gesture, "this is getting us nowhere. Bruce, you have trained us all _very well_."

"Some better than others," Damian interjected with a pointed look at Tim.

Nightwing shot his youngest brother a sharp look. "The point is that we face death all the time. Every night. This is no different."

"No. It is. If you –"

"We." Dick interrupted.

"If _you_ are being targeted by someone who can track you or is following you, there is much more at risk than just your lives. Which are all very precious to me, by the way, despite what you might think." Here he looked at Damian. "If you are being tracked, you could lead whomever is behind this to the others, or to your homes," Barbara and Dick exchanged looks, "or back to this cave. Which, I am sure I do not need to tell you, would be catastrophic."

"There's no way we're being tracked," Tim shook his head. "Dick and I wrote the software together. There are so many layers of encryption and anti-_everything_ that it's _impossible_ for anyone on Earth to track it."

"So what you're saying is that any alien can hack into the system." Damian said smugly. "Father, I told you to let a _real _professional write the software and not an amateur who thinks he's Steve Jobs."

"Listen, you little –" Tim advanced on Damian with his fists clenched at his sides, and Dick and Barbara moved in to intercept the older boy even as Damian crouched into a fighting stance.

"_Enough_!" Batman stopped them with one word, and they all froze in their places, and looked at him. "This is _not_ a time for in-fighting. Since you _all_ seem intent upon patrolling, you will do it _my _way. Nightwing, take Robin and patrol Bludhaven. Batgirl, you and Red Robin take the south end of Gotham. I'll take the north."

"So you're going out alone?" Dick asked, putting into words what the others were thinking.

"Yes. My armor is a bit heavier, and I have had more experience than any of you."

"Don't say it." Dick whispered furiously to Damian, who had opened his mouth to retort. To his credit, the youngest Wayne kept silent.

Barbara spoke up. "You do realize that Dick and Tim were together when the sniper took his shot."

"Yes, I do. But there is always safety in numbers, despite that. And now, since you are now all on alert, there will be two sets of eyes and two sets of ears to detect any threats. Still, it might not hurt to stay off the rooftops. Or at least limit your time there."

"Why are you shipping me off to Bludhaven?" Damian's face was scrunched in anger.

"You're working with Nightwing, and he's needed there."

"It's because you perceive that the threat is lower in Bludhaven, and you want me out of the way!"

"I _want_ you with Dick."

Damian flung a hand at Tim and Barbara. "They'll be on the street in ten minutes. It will take us an _hour_ to get to Bludhaven, and an hour to get back!"

"Not if we take the Batmobile." Dick looked encouragingly at Batman, who sighed wearily.

"Yes. Take it." This came from Bruce.

Damian's face finally cleared, and he turned to Dick. "I'm driving."

* * *

**Bludhaven**

**Later That Night**

"You really love breaking Bruce's rules, don't you?" Nightwing asked as he maneuvered a corner on the outskirts of Bludhaven.

"No names in the field, Nightwing. How many times do I have to tell you?"

Dick grinned. "At least once more."

Damian tsked in disgust and turned to gaze out the window.

Dick looked over at him for a moment. "He only wants what's best for you."

"He wants to keep me under glass."

"_You_have been under glass less than anyone I have ever met!"

"He wants me to stay home while he _patrols_."

"He _wants _you to stay alive."

"I am more well-trained than any of you!"

"No one is denying that. But _you_ are still a child. Barbara, Tim, and I –"

"Names."

"Urgh! _Batgirl_, _Red Robin_, and I are all adults. We have all made a conscious, mature decision to be involved in this kind of life."

"Mature! Ha! And you _all _were my age when you were going out on patrol."

"_I _was. The others were older."

"But not eighteen."

"No, they weren't. And I think maybe he regrets letting us go out."

"So I should pay for my father's regrets?"

"The point is that _you_ have not been around long enough to know what else there might be out there that you want to do – later in life. And it's Br – Batman's job to keep you alive so you can make that decision."

"I know the decision that I would make."

"You think that you do. But no one can see into the future. So, when you _get_ to your future, you can make it then."

"I know what my decision would be." He repeated stubbornly.

"So make it when you turn eighteen." Dick was no less stubborn.

"You're an ass."

Nightwing laughed.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later that Night**

Damian was in a much better mood when he and Dick returned to the Batcave. Nightwing had allowed his youngest brother to drive the Batmobile home. He had cautioned Damian not to mention anything to Batman, although he was fairly certain that Bruce would either already know or would have expected it.

They found Bruce in the cave, stripped to his waist and tending to several minor cuts.

"Father!" Damian jumped through the air and landed next to Bruce with a swoosh of his cape. "We stopped _three _muggings and an apartment break-in." He was still on an adrenaline high, and he punched the air, reliving the battles.

Dick smiled as he watched Batman apply anti-bacterial ointment to one of the cuts. "You can always count on the Haven for some good, clean butt-whooping."

"That's what I was hoping." The slightest shadow of a smile came to Bruce's mouth.

Dick's eyes widened. "Did you just – smile?"

"I've been known to do that on occasion. " He turned to Damian. "Did you enjoy driving the Batmobile?"

Damian froze for a fraction of a second, then resumed fighting invisible enemies. "I knew that you would know."

"It seems we're both clairvoyant." He watched Damian with fondness. "Why don't you change and go see Alfred? I think he has a snack for you."

"It had better be cookies." Damian flounced away without a look backwards.

Bruce turned to his oldest son. "Dick," he began.

Nightwing held up his hands. "I know. I know. I shouldn't have let him drive."

"No. It's fine. I knew you would."

"You did?"

"I also knew he would be safe with you."

"Oh, yeah. Well – okay." He did not know what else to say.

Bruce picked up his discarded cape and cowl. "Do you have anything to do tomorrow evening?"

"Uh, no. I guess." Nightwing looked at Bruce speculatively. He was acting very – odd. Almost – conciliatory. "Going to do some studying at the library – that should make you happy. But otherwise, no, nothing planned."

"Come for dinner." It was an order, and suddenly, Bruce was back to being _Bruce_.

Dick nodded. "Sure. Want to tell me why you want me to come?"

"No."

* * *

**Gotham University**

**The Next Day**

Devon sat at a table in the library and looked at the mess of books around her, and at her laptop open in front of her, and sighed. She could not concentrate on Ancient Civilizations of Mesoamerica, or any civilizations at all right now.

When she had awakened earlier that morning and had turned her phone back on, she had seven text messages as well as two missed calls from Larry, which ranged from last night's "how was the test?" to early afternoon's "you can't avoid answering me forever."

She was, however, determined to try. She had not done as he had told her – had not done what she was supposed to do – and soon she would pay the price for her failure.

All she ever wanted was to get an education and start over somewhere else. Get as far away from Gotham as she could – as far away from the diner as possible. So far away that Larry would never find her.

She crossed her arms on the table and set her chin on them, and looked senselessly at the screen in front of her, seeing nothing.

"Hey, I know you." She looked up from her computer, and, despite her turmoil, smiled when she recognized the cute guy from the diner. The big tipper. "Hey! Rich guy." She said, instantly regretting it. She blushed. "I'm sorry. That was rude. I – I don't think of you that way – you know, in terms of," her shoulders slumped, "money." She finished lamely.

He smiled. "It's okay. I've been called worse."

"Oh yeah?" She saw an excuse to stop studying – to stop thinking. "You could tell me what they are." She pushed out the chair opposite with her foot, ignoring the voice in her head that reminded her that Larry wouldn't like this distraction. "Or you could tell me your real name."

He grinned, took the seat, and set his backpack on the floor. "Dick." He extended his hand, and she took it. His skin was warm, and a tingle went all the way up her arm.

She was silent, a smile frozen on her face. "Is – is that the "worse" you were called?"

He looked at her blankly, and then, understanding, laughed. "Yeah. Sometimes, I guess. It also happens to be my name. It's Dick – Grayson." At her silence, he continued, dismay on his face. "You could just keep calling me _rich guy_."

She shook her head, smiling. "Dick is a – good name."

He removed his hand from hers. "Just don't tell me it suits me."

She laughed. "I don't know you well enough to tell you that." She reddened and cast her eyes down, a grimace on her face. Why had she said something like that?

"Maybe someday you will." His own face fell as he realized the innuendo in his words. "Oh, hell. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it. "Maybe we should change the subject. What's your name?"

Relief came over her face. "Devon. Devon Wakeman."

"Well, nice to meet you, Devon Wakeman." He pretended that it was the first time that he had heard it, and the first time he had said it.

She smiled again. "Nice to meet you, too."

He indicated the laptop and books. "Studying?" _Oh, smooth, Grayson_. _What tipped you off_? _The books? Obvious, much_?

She latched onto the safe subject. "Yeah. I have a test next week in history." She folded her arms across the table.

"That's not your major, is it?" He said, knowing that it wasn't.

She shook her head. "No. It's biology. I had a test in that yesterday."

"How'd you do?"

She scrunched up her face. "I'm pretty sure I bombed it."

"Ouch. Sorry."

"Tell me about it." She rolled her eyes. "Is it a bad sign when your major bores you to tears?"

He laughed. "It's not the best."

She shrugged. "I used to love it, but, after getting into the higher level stuff, my mind just – wanders away from it."

"Maybe you should think about changing your major."

"I don't know what to change it to."

"Well, what do you like?"

"Oh. Are you my own personal guidance counselor?" She teased.

"I can be." He leaned forward, itching to extend his hand across the table and take hers, but he did not. "I'm not qualified, of course, but I'm a good listener."

A slow smile came to her lips, which caused Dick's heart to leap. "Well, I like literature – and history, even if Mesoamerica is not my cup of tea. But those don't exactly offer the most lucrative careers after graduation – and I need one. I don't want to be a teacher. Or a professor – and that needs a Ph.D anyway."

"You could always go to law school."

She shook her head. "Not so much into conflict as I'd have to be as a lawyer."

He nodded. "I understand that."

She sighed. "Ever get the feeling your life is spinning out of control?"

He grinned. "Every so often." _Once a day, at least_.

"I'm feeling that right now, and I don't know what to do about it." She confessed, and pain shadowed her eyes. "I feel like –"

– Like she was being sucked into quicksand that she couldn't escape.

"Have you ever gone swimming on a lake or – or in the ocean," she continued, "and you swim out _really _far from shore, and then you turn and see how _far away _you are, and you think to yourself 'wow, I don't know if I can make it back?'"

His smile had disappeared, and he nodded.

She looked down at her hands. "That's kind of how I'm feeling now."

They looked at each other in silence for a long moment before he spoke. "Do – do you want to go get some coffee?"

She gave a quick smile, and made a quicker decision. "Yeah, I would." She looked at the piles of books surrounding her. "I'm kind of done with studying. It's like flogging a dead horse, you know? It won't get up, and I won't learn anymore." She smiled again at him. "I need a distraction about now."

"I can provide that."

"You are."

As she gathered her belongings, she wondered at the wisdom of what she was doing. She _really _shouldn't get involved with this guy! She had other things she needed to concentrate on. She had other responsibilities.

Dick's hand brushed hers as he stacked the books, and she blushed.

"Are these all yours?"

She shook her head. "No. Most of them are the library's."

"Let's just leave them here. Let the student assistants earn their paychecks."

She smiled, slid her laptop into her backpack, and soon they were walking out of the building side by side. She glanced over at him to find him staring at her, and she felt compelled to speak. "Uh, so you're thinking about majoring in computers?"

"Oh." He snapped out of the reverie he had been in. "Probably." He headed towards the parking lot. "Information technology and management. Want to take my car?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure. If it's not too big a hassle."

"No. Easier than walking."

She smiled. "Definitely quicker."

"Yeah. That's the truth."

There was an awkward silence, which she broke. "So, computers. You'll have no problem getting a job after graduation."

He shrugged. "I guess. I have a part-time IT job already."

"Oh, yeah? Where?"

_Crap, said too much. Where the hell is your head, Dick_? "Um, WayneTech."

"Programming?"

He shook his head, falling into his standard response. "Nah. I just babysit the servers at night. You know, make sure all the lights are blinking – everything's plugged in."

"Soft gig?"

He chuckled, thinking of his real part-time job. "Not always. But it pays the bills."

"Going to try to get a job there after graduation?"

He shrugged. "Probably. It's a good company." They reached his car, and he gratefully changed the subject. "So, um, here are my wheels."

She blinked at the sleek BMW sedan as he unlocked the doors with the remote fob. "Nice car." _That's five years worth of pay sitting right there_.

He smiled. "Thanks." He opened the door for her, and held out his hand.

She stared at his palm for a minute.

"Can I take your backpack?" He prompted her.

"What? Of yeah, sure, thanks." She swung it off her back, and it flew forward, almost hitting him. He grabbed for it and caught it with one hand.

"Oops." She colored.

"Trunk okay with you?"

She nodded and climbed in the car, glad she had worn jeans and not a skirt as she had the day before. He closed her door, like a gentleman, stowed their backpacks in the trunk, and hopped into the driver's seat.

The engine started with a purr, and he expertly maneuvered it out of the space and through the parking lot.

She stole a look at him through the corner of her eye. Damn! He was good looking. He even had a gorgeous profile! And he was rich!

_I bet he's smart, too_.

She allowed her gaze to slide to his hands, They were well-shaped with long, tapered fingers. She could imagine those hands running slowly, lightly up her thighs, cupping her – she shook her head to clear it. _Don't have sex dreams when you're __**with **__the guy_! She admonished herself. She watched as he shifted gears – she loved watching a guy drive a manual transmission car. And there was something extra sexy about Dick gripping the stick shift, shoving it into the right gear...

_Really, Devon_? _Again_? _Why don't you just imagine him naked and get it over with_?

Her mind, unfortunately, complied, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to try to block out the images. When she was certain she had herself under control, she opened her eyes – to find Dick staring at her again. They were at a red light.

"You okay?"

She gave a weak smile. "Just – trying to remember something I have to do when I get home." She lied.

He returned the smile. "Oh. Okay."

She continued to watch him drive; the veins in his forearms, the light hair that grew there – just enough to be sexy, and not enough to be gross. She felt an urge to reach over and stroke his arm, but controlled herself.

They pulled into the parking lot of a local coffee shop, and he slid into a space. He switched off the car and came around to open her door.

She self-consciously climbed out of the cabin, trying to recall how her grandmother taught her how to alight from a car gracefully, but failed miserably.

She caught him looking at her, and she blushed again. They walked in silence to the door of the cafe, and he opened the door for her to enter before him.

"Thank you." She gave him a small smile, and they walked up to the counter.

"Uh, wow." She looked over the extensive menu board. "What's good here?"

"Depends on what you like." His smile was wide.

"Oh. Okay. What do you usually have?"

"A quad macchiato."

She turned to him with wide eyes. "You're kidding me. And your heart continues to beat?"

He laughed and leaned on the counter, closer to her. "I'm as strong as a bull."

Her brows raised. "But are you as stubborn?"

"More." His eyes focused on her lips. God, how he wanted to kiss her!

The girl behind the counter greeted them, and he turned his head to her lazily and gave his order.

"Devon?" He asked her.

"Oh, sorry. What?" She had fallen into a daze looking at him.

"What would you like?" He repeated.

"Oh. Right. Um, mocha, please." Devon smiled at the girl behind the counter, who gave Devon a hostile look and who turned to Dick to give him the total, a smile pasted on her ugly, makeup plastered face.

"Want to share a giant cookie? I'm a little hungry." He asked.

"Sure."

He grabbed a massive chocolate chip cookie from the rack, and when Devon reached for her purse, he pulled his wallet out and gave her a stern look. "I invited _you_. I'm paying."

"But –"

"No but's. My father would kill me if I made a lady pay."

She smiled and gave a small nod. "Well, thank you. Your father raised you well."

Dick took his change from the girl. "I could _never _tell him that."

She smiled sadly. "You should."

"He's not actually _at one _with his emotions."

"Ah. One of those."

They drifted away from the counter with the cookie, and Dick offered it to her. She broke off a piece; it was fresh, with the dough and the chocolate still slightly soft.

He broke off a portion and popped it in his mouth, and they stood grinning at each other like idiots, enjoying the chocolate and each other.

_My God, he has the bluest eyes I have ever seen_, she thought.

Their coffee order was called and Dick juggled both cups and the cookie, and walked to a table near the window. He put the cups down and pulled out a chair for her.

A slight pink tinge came to her face. "Thanks."

Dick took a sip of his coffee. It was strong and bitter and hot, exactly as he liked it. "So," he began, "Tell me about yourself."

"Oh." Her face became pinker. "Well, you already know where I work, and where I go to school, and my major. And that's my whole life right now."

"It is not." He sounded skeptical.

"No, really. I wake up early, go to work. Finish work, go to class. Finish class, go home and study. Finish studying, go to bed." She shrugged. "That's it. Incredibly boring, right?"

He shrugged, too. "You gotta do what you gotta do."

"I know. As soon as I get my degree, though, it'll all change. I'll leave Gotham, get a good job, be happy."

He frowned. "Why would you want to leave Gotham?"

She shook her head. "I don't think there's anything here for me. I want to try a smaller city. Maybe in upstate New York, or the west coast. I like Oregon. And Washington. Or maybe northern California. I just need a change."

"Do you have family on the west coast?"

She shook her head. "No. Not that I know of, anyway. My parents – died, when I was young."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He already knew all of this, of course, but it was nice that he was learning about it from her.

"Thank you."

"Do you live alone?"

"No. I live with my grandmother. She runs the diner with me."

"You run the diner?"

"Yeah." She told the story she had repeated so often over the years. "My mom and dad bought it not long before they died, and, when they died, my grandmother leased it to a third party. But we weren't making enough off the lease to do more than make ends meet, so, when I was in high school, we moved back here and started running it. So now we can actually afford luxuries like," she gave a small, bitter smile, "you know, heating."

"Wow. It must be hard."

"A little." Her smile changed to a happier one. "But I can't really complain. I have an uncle who pays for my tuition and helps pay the mortgage, so I'm better off than a lot of people."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess." He nodded, his mind working. An uncle? He thought the trust paid for her school.

She broke off another piece of cookie and dipped it into her coffee. "What about you? Got any sad stories?"

He frowned. How far did he want to go into this? _All in_, he thought.

She watched the play of emotion on his face as she chewed – uncertainty, sadness, reluctance – as well as resolve, before he answered. "A couple, I guess."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think..." she trailed off.

"No, it's okay. I guess we have a lot in common. Both of my parents died when I was eight."

"What?" She turned a deep, ashamed red. "Oh, Dick, I am so sorry. I didn't mean..." She slid her hand across the table and took his, and he turned his palm over so that their fingers locked.

He gave a nostalgic smile. "It's okay."

"But you talked about your father earlier." She pointed out.

"I was adopted not long after by a – a good man. He raised me. I have three brothers, too."

"Wow. A houseful of guys. That must mean a lot of sweaty socks in the laundry."

He laughed, and tightened his grip on her hand. "Yeah. I don't live there anymore, though."

"Oh." She registered surprise. "Do you live on campus?"

"No, I have an apartment in Bludhaven."

Her eyebrows rose. "Wow. That's kind of – far. Is that where you grew up?"

He shook his head. "No. The house is in Bristol."

_Bristol. That's a nice neighborhood. _"So what are you doing in the Haven?"

He fell into the old lies he told everyone. "Had a job there and my apartment was convenient – at the time. Now I'm just too lazy to move." She laughed as he broke the remainder of the cookie in two and offered her half, which she took with thanks.

He smiled around the cookie in his mouth. "This really is a good cookie."

She nodded as she finished it.

He gave a slight frown and pointed at her mouth. "You have a little bit of chocolate there."

"Oh." She flushed, and fumbled for a napkin.

"Here, let me." He took his fingertip and swiped it away, and brought it to his own lips. Their eyes met; Devon's breath hitched, and her pupils constricted in the awareness that stretched between them.

She realized, right then, that she wanted him. Not _wanted_ in a nebulous, emotional way, but in a very physical, atavistic one.

She cast her eyes down in uncertainty when she saw the same look on his face.

"So, uh, have any brothers or sisters?" He asked, trying to break the silence.

She gratefully took the "out" he provided her. "I did. She – died with my parents."

He _had _forgotten that. "Oh, wow, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's just me and my grandmother now. We spend a lot of time together when I'm not at school. I don't even have many – _any_ friends, really."

"Why?"

"No time. I mean, I have acquaintances, like in study groups, and all, but I haven't had a real friend since high school." She looked up at the ceiling briefly. "God, that's pathetic."

"No, it's not. You have a bunch of responsibility. It seems like you have almost every moment of every day taken."

She gave a rueful smile. "That's not exactly true. I have about a half hour between eleven and eleven thirty at night when I could be socializing."

"Hmm. Well, I could _call_ you, and we could talk, if you like."

The smile she gave him then was genuine and unadulterated and purely joyous, and he was floored. His heart skipped a beat, and he thought he had never seen a more beautiful woman.

She reached into her purse and brought out a ballpoint pen. Taking his hand, she wrote something on his palm. Her hand was warm around his, and the tip of the pen tickled his skin. She finished, and released him. "It's my cell phone number. Call me."

It was hard to find words, so he nodded, and they stared at each other for several long moments until he cleared his throat. "Um, you want to grab some dinner and maybe take in a movie – or something?" Anything to stay with her, to be with her.

She was about to accept – to throw caution away and forget all of her responsibilities and let desire take her, when he groaned and put two fingers to his forehead.

"I can't. I forgot. I'm expected at dinner with my father and brother."

She recovered quickly enough that he did not see her disappointment. "That's okay."

"Rain check?"

She nodded with a smile. "I should grab a bus home. It's getting late."

"A bus? No way. I'll take you."

"You don't have to. I'm fine riding the bus. I take it every day. It's no big deal."

He smiled. "I'll drive you."

"Okay." She acquiesced. "Thanks."

They finished their coffees quickly and went back to his car.

"Where do you live?" Even though he knew exactly where she lived, she did not know that he knew.

"Uh, I live above the diner."

"Okay. That's cool. _Very _convenient." He pulled into traffic.

She sat next to him anxiously, not knowing what to say or where to look, or what to do with her hands, which she kept clasped in her lap.

They finally pulled to the curb in front of the closed diner, and Devon looked around. The entire street, because it was Saturday, was deserted. She looked at Dick, and noticed he had turned in his seat towards her.

"Thanks for the coffee and the cookie. And the ride home." She smiled. "And the conversation. I – I appreciate it. I don't get much of a chance to – bare my soul."

He gave a gentle smile. "My pleasure."

They looked at each other silently for a long, long moment, and she leaned into him. He brought his hands up to her shoulders and drew her close. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips touched hers, softly at first, then, as she responded, more firmly.

She tasted the coffee on his mouth and opened her own to his tongue, lifting a tentative hand to his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, wild and erratic, and she knew that he was as affected by their proximity as she was. She wanted to fall into him, feel him against her, feel the muscles of his body beneath her hands, and she knew that, if he wanted, she would let him take her, somewhere away from here, right now.

Dick, for his part, was doing his best not to drag her against him, and instead, he pulled away. He didn't want to scare her by moving too quickly. God knows he wanted to go further, though.

He opened the door and climbed out of the car, leaving her shaking with desire. He himself walked rather unsteadily to the trunk and retrieved her backpack before coming around to open her door.

She gave him a shy smile as he extended a hand to help her alight, and he kept it as they walked around to the rear entrance, twining their fingers. When they reached the back door to the building, she let go of him and turned away to fumble with the keys, knowing he was close behind her.

Watching her intently, he almost reached out to touch her, although he dropped his hand at the last moment. "When can I see you again?" His voice was low and rough.

She turned back to him, a devilish smile on her face, took hold of his hand, and held up his palm. "Call me."

He nodded and stepped back, handing the backpack over and waiting until she closed the door behind her.

* * *

Devon smiled as she ran up the stairs to the apartment. Dick had kissed her. _My God, he's a good kisser_, she thought as she fit the key into the door. He was gorgeous, and nice, and smart, and _rich_, and a good kisser. What more could she ask for?

Not much more in a man, that was certain.

Her grandmother was standing at the stove, cooking, as Devon came into the kitchen and tossed her backpack on the table.

"Where have you been? I've been worried."

Devon peered over the other woman's shoulder. "Library. That smells delicious. What is it?"

"Beef stew. I called you. You didn't answer." Her grandmother's voice was clipped.

"Oh." Devon took the phone out of her pocket. "I forgot to turn it back on. Wow. _Six _missed calls. You really wanted to get in touch with me. Is everything okay?"

"Larry has been trying to get in touch with you for _days_."

This again. She grabbed an apple out the fruit bowl. "Screw Larry."

"You can't say that."

"I just did." She sank her teeth into the fruit.

Her grandmother turned to her, arms crossed. "And what will we do if you tell him that? What will _you_ do if he stops paying your tuition?"

She did not answer.

"Where would we live if he stops paying the mortgage?"

She set her jaw. "I'll call him later."

"And did I hear voices outside just now when you got home?"

Devon was quiet again, chewing the apple.

"I looked out the window." her grandmother added.

"So if you knew, why did you ask?"

"I wanted you to tell me."

Devon shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "He's just someone who drove me home."

"And someone who walked you to the door? It sounds like a boyfriend to me."

"He's not my _boyfriend_."

"He better not be. You know how angry Larry would be if he thought you were neglecting your _work _for a boy."

"Yes, God forbid I have any happiness in this miserable life."

Her grandmother came over and took the remainder of the apple out of her hand. "You listen here, young lady. We owe him _everything_, so just do what he asks. _Do it_ and then he'll leave you alone. He always has in the past."

"This is different. This isn't me _dropping _off a note or uploading a file or even planting something somewhere. This is my _life_."

"It's not your life until you get _it_ done."

"Yeah, well, I'm having trouble with _it_."

"You aren't trying."

"I _am_ trying."

"Then do it. And, until then, get rid of your boyfriend."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. As you know, if you read my other fanfics (_The Spirit Within _parts one and two), I don't believe in a smooth path to true love! Please review this fic when you get a chance; it has VERY few reviews, comparatively!

Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: **Thanks to sunflower13 for betareading, and I am happy to say that shells210 is back in the fold! I am very excited to have these two wonderful people reading for me!

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Evening**

"Master Richard, I am so pleased that you are here!" Alfred's face relaxed into a smile.

"Me, too. I've missed you, Alfred." Dick sat down at the counter in the kitchen of the Wayne Manor where the manservant was rolling out a pie crust. "I've missed your cooking. And your baking. Especially your pies."

"Cherry tonight."

"One of my favorites."

"I know."

Dick grabbed a piece of the raw dough and popped it in his mouth. "So, how are you doing, Alfred? Bruce keeping you busy?"

"Always, Master Richard. Keeps me busy, keeps me young."

"Glass half-full as usual."

A beatific smile crossed his features. "Indeed."

"And Damian?"

"Young Master Damian keeps me on my _toes_."

"Hasn't tried to kill you lately, has he?"

"Not since the first time, I am pleased to say."

"He's making progress, then. Where is the little scion, anyway?"

"Playing _Call of the Dutiful_, I believe."

Dick laughed. "_Call of Duty_, Alfred."

"Yes, that one."

Dick watched Alfred with fondness. This was the _Wayne_ Manor, but Alfred was the heart of this home. Dick came around and clapped the man on the shoulder affectionately. "I'm glad to be home, Alfred."

"We're glad to have you, Master Dick. _Very _glad."

"Thank you." Dick walked to the door of the kitchen. "For everything." He gave a wide smile, and was gone.

Alfred smiled, as well, and threw a sprinkling of flour on the crust.

Dick whistled as he jogged up the stairs. It really was good to be home.

Everything was good today. Tonight, someone might try to kill him, but today he was home, and a beautiful girl had kissed him earlier.

He headed for the media room, where the video game consoles were set up, and found Damian seated on the floor, eyes plastered on a massive video screen, an online _Call of Duty_ campaign on it.

"Hey there, little brother." He leaned against the door jamb. "Whatcha doing?"

"I am annihilating my rivals."

Dick pushed off and came into the room. "What else is new?"

"I have scored the highest legitimate score ever recorded online for this game."

"Ah. Take the question literally. I get it." He came and stood beside the boy and watched as Damian efficiently mowed down everyone on screen. "I meant –"

"I know what you meant. That was your feeble attempt at sarcastic humor."

Dick was possessed by the desire to discomfit his brother, so he leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of Damian's head.

It worked; Damian jumped up, shock and ire mixed on his face. "Arrrgh! Get off!" He rubbed the offended area.

"That was my feeble attempt to distract you." Dick smiled. "Not so feeble, eh?"

Damian glowered at him. "Pathetic, Grayson."

"So you say. I say _funny_. Where's Bruce?"

Damian settled down to his game again. "How should I know? I'm not my father's keeper."

"What? You mean you don't have a tracking device implanted in one of his teeth?"

"It was under his skin." Damian grumbled. "But he found it."

"You never disappoint, Dami."

"Don't call me that."

"It's _so_ cute, though."

"I am _not _cute."

"You're right. You're _adorable_."

"I _will_ kill you unless you leave right now." He refused to look at Dick.

"No, you won't."

"I'll kill you in your sleep."

"Never going to happen."

"Try me."

Dick smiled. "I have."

Damian gave a snort, but did not dispute his brother's claim.

"Dinner in a half hour or so."

"Shepherd's pie?"

"My favorite."

"It's peasant food."

"I _am _from peasant stock, after all."

"_Obviously_."

Dick chuckled. He was never going to get the last word – unless he said it and left. "See you downstairs."

He found Bruce in his study, reading an online newspaper. The older man looked up when he heard Dick enter.

"It seems that those jewelry store break-ins have ended. At least temporarily."

"Well, that's good." Dick sat in a chair in front of his father's desk.

"But – odd. Criminals don't usually just – stop when they've discovered a lucrative means of filling their coffers."

"And Billy hasn't been arrested?"

"Or even seen."

Dick pondered that for a moment. "If he _is _robbing the stores on someone's orders, he _or _she may have ordered him to stop."

"Yes, I considered that. The question is, however, _who_ that might be."

"Unless it's just Billy – and he just decided to lie low for a while."

"Possibly. Since we have _no _leads on Numerous, we'll just have to wait to see if he makes another move."

"Sounds reasonable."

Bruce looked at Dick for a long time. "I'm glad you're here, Dick. You've always been the best person to bounce ideas off."

Dick smiled. "Just doing my job."

Bruce shook his head. "You're doing considerably more than that." He drew in a deep breath. "Which brings me to why I wanted you to come tonight."

Dick remained quiet.

"It's about Damian."

Dick's pulse quickened. _What about Damian_? He wanted to ask. Was it about his behavior? His mother? His future as Robin?

"I want – I _need_ to talk to you about his future."

_Right on one count_.

"Bruce..." Dick began, but his father held up his hand.

"Just listen, please. I know that I made – a lot of mistakes while raising you. And God knows that my time with Jason was _nothing _but mistakes. And Tim, well, Tim practically raised himself. I will never be father of the year, I'm afraid."

"Bruce, I don't why you insist upon beating yourself up. You know that –"

Bruce interrupted him again. "This isn't about me, and I think that I need to say that. It's about Damian. I have another chance with him, Dick. A chance we both desperately need. I don't want to fail him. And I am trying – very hard, to be the sort of father that my father was to me – and that Alfred has been to me. But I do not fool myself into thinking that I can do it by myself. Even with Alfred at my side. And should anything happen to me, I _cannot_ leave the responsibility to him. Damian needs _you_, Dick. He needs you as an influence in his life."

"He has me. You know that."

"But I want to make it official. I intend to amend my will to name you as his guardian in the event of my death or incapacitation. Will you do that?"

"Yes, Bruce, of course I will. I would have anyway."

"I know that. This would make it official."

"I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. But, even more importantly, I have made a decision."

This sounded ominous.

"I want to put Batman and Robin – away. And I'd like you to do the same with Nightwing. And Tim with Red Robin."

Dick wasn't sure that he heard correctly. "Wh – what?"

"There has always been something inside me that has _compelled _me to – pursue this – being the Batman. But I want – have always wanted – for you boys to have normal lives."

"Bruce, I think that ship has long since sailed."

"No. It's not too late. You should – all of you, have meaningful jobs, loving families."

"We have all of that."

"A family of your own, Dick."

"You mean this isn't my own family? You and Tim and Damian and Alfred and – Jason? This isn't my family?"

"You know what I mean. A wife. Children. The chance to live into old age."

"I intend to live to be _ancient_. Any of us could die at any time, Bruce, crossing the street or falling down the stairs. Working as Batman – or Robin – is no more dangerous than being a police officer."

"You know that's not true. It is _considerably_ more dangerous. And I do not want that for you – and especially not for Damian."

"So _you_ want to tell him that you intend to stop being the Batman, and forbid him from being Robin? Or are you leaving that to me?"

"I'm not leaving anything to you. I intend to put my plan into place gradually. And I intend to be the one to tell him."

"Is that why you won't let him drive the Batmobile? And why you won't let him patrol on his own?"

"He's ten."

Dick couldn't argue with Bruce because he knew he was right. But he also knew that this would _kill_ Damian, or drive him away. "It's his identity, Bruce."

"His identity _should_ be Damian Wayne. His legacy should _not _be one of violence and danger. Neither should yours."

"So we're all supposed to put away our uniforms and let Gotham and Blüdhaven rot?"

"Gotham and Blüdhaven all existed before we came along, and will be here long after we go."

"And what about the League? The Team?"

"They are both designed to function without key individuals. You ran the team very successfully without Aqualad or Kid Flash or Artemis."

"I don't know how much of a success that was." Dick grumbled.

"The Team will go on. As will the League."

Dick gave a deep sigh. "This is a mistake."

"No, it's not. The mistake was dragging you all into this in the first place."

"So what should we all do now? Spend our nights playing Parcheesi?"

"Spend your nights doing what every other normal young man does."

"I don't know any, so I have no idea _what_ they do."

"Dick, you know what I'm saying."

"I know what you're saying, but I don't accept it. Our _whole _lives is this, Bruce. Being _bats_."

"Maybe you should just be Dick."

"I am being Dick. This is what I _do_."

"Then you should find a new way of life."

"And what might that be?"

"Wayne Enterprises."

"What?"

"I want you to become more involved in the company. You'll be CEO someday, after all."

"Have you told Lucius Fox that I'm replacing him?"

"No, because you aren't. Lucius won't want to keep up this pace forever, and, when he retires, you need to take over. You need to work with him, now, to find out how to run the company and take over when the time is right. And you also need to look out for your brothers. Make sure that they all have a means to make a living, within Wayne Enterprises – that they all have a say in its management."

"So you're offering us all jobs?"

"I'm offering you all the chance to have _normal_ lives."

"We don't do normal, Bruce. What you're asking won't work."

"Don't you want it, Dick?"

"Wayne Enterprises? Not particularly."

"Not the company. The _life_. A wife to come home to. Children to raise, and to love. Meaning."

"I have meaning."

"So you don't want that? You want to live – and die, alone?"

Dick opened his mouth to speak, but closed it abruptly.

"I didn't think so." Bruce said quietly.

Dick shook his head. "I don't know if I can stop being Nightwing. And Damian _won't _stop being Robin."

"It doesn't have to be tomorrow, although it would give me great peace of mind if it was. But I am not being unrealistic, Dick, to think that you could all live happy, normal lives."

Dick gave an exasperated sigh. "So this is a mandate from on high? Be normal, or _else_?"

"No, of course not. You and Tim are adults, so, ultimately, it would be your decision. But I want you to _try_ it. I have already spoken to Lucius –"

"Please tell me you did _not _do that."

"Yes, I did. And he has agreed to start showing you the ropes."

"So I should quit college for this?"

"Absolutely not. You need your education – now more than ever."

"Should I switch to a business major?" His tone was bitter.

"Not if you don't want to. Dick, I had always intended for you to take over the computers division anyway. Now I just have bigger plans for you."

"And _my_ plans? What about them?"

"What were your plans?"

Dick thought a moment. He had never had any plans – past being Nightwing. "I don't know. But they would be _my _plans. Not plans that _you_ decided would be best."

"If being Nightwing was off the table, what would you do?"

"Is it?"

"Not right now. But did you expect to be swinging around buildings until you were sixty-five? There is no retirement home for superheroes. What I am proposing is a future – a _real _future."

Dick shook his head in exasperation. "Have you mentioned this to Tim?"

"Not yet. I thought that I should broach it to you first."

"He won't be happy."

"I don't know. I think, of you all, he is the most adaptable. The one who rolls with the punches."

Dick looked down at his feet and shrugged. "Maybe."

"Does that upset you – that I think Tim might be more successful at adjusting to civilian life than you?"

"No. I hope that he would be – successful, I mean." And he meant it. If Bruce carried through with this, Dick and Tim – and Barbara, of course, could continue to be bats, but, without Bruce, it would be hollow, at best.

"Even though I think that, Dick, I also know that _you _will be the one who can make this a success – who can convince the others. You."

"Me?" His brows shot up. "You're _the _Batman."

"And you are the oldest son. The _original_ Robin. They look up to you. All of them."

"And what will you do about Barbara?"

"I really have no control over Barbara – we provide her with resources, of course, but I cannot compel her to leave the life. Of course, as I said, I cannot compel you or Tim, either."

Dick was hesitant to ask the next question. "And Jason? Are you including him in this reboot of yours?"

Bruce looked away from him for the first time. "I would certainly like him to be included. You know – _everyone_ knows – that what happened to him was a direct result of this life. And it is the greatest regret of _my_ life. I wouldn't speak to him about it –"

"You don't speak to him at all."

"No. I suppose I don't. But, for all my sins, he _is_ my son. He will always be my son. And I know that I have no right to ask it of him, and little chance of convincing him that I want the best for him, but I would like him to join Wayne Enterprises, too."

"You want to give Jason a _job_?"

"I want all of my sons together. I want them provided for."

"So you expect that we'll be one big happy family all working in the family business?"

"I don't know. I do know that I want to give you all a chance to be happy."

"What if we're happy now?"

"Then you're fooling yourself."

"But this _is_ what I want."

"You want it now because you are a young man, and you think you're immortal – no, do not interrupt. _Everyone _thinks they are invincible when they are young. And you love the rush – the pumping of the adrenaline, the thrill of putting on the uniform and the mask, the exhilaration you feel flying through the air. But you _will _get to a point when you meet a girl, and you fall in love, and all you think about is marrying her and starting a family and waking up beside her every day for the rest of your life. And, the honest truth is, Dick, that, as long as _this_ is your life, you won't be able to."

"It hasn't happened to you."

A small, bitter smile came over Bruce's face. "Yes, it has. But I pushed her away, and now that chance is gone. And I don't want that for you, Dick. Any of you."

Dick was mulishly silent.

"Give it a try. Please." Bruce looked at his eldest son, sitting there sullenly, and he sighed. "It's time for me to be selfish, Dick, and stop thinking about the world and start thinking about the welfare of my children. Evil will always be around, but I won't. And you won't. And I want us all to leave behind something more than just statues and a trail of broken bones."

"This is our calling, Bruce. _Our_ legacy."

"It needs to be more than this, Dick."

Dick had no idea what to do, or what to say. He had never, in his life, thought that Bruce would ever be thinking this way. Thinking of hanging up the cowl. Asking him, and the others, to do the same.

"Tell me that you will think about it."

Dick nodded slowly. "I will. Tell me you'll do the same."

"I have. For a very long time."

"So what will you do after your _retirement_?"

"It will take several years just to dismantle everything and put it to other uses. But, ultimately, I intend to devote myself and my energies to the Wayne Foundation."

"Going to ring the bell for the Widows and Orphans Fund?"

"Considerably more than that. We've been fighting this war on the front lines for a _long_ time, Dick, and it's only been making the most superficial difference. It's time I stop taking the easy way out."

Dick gave a bark of mirthless laughter. "You call _our_ life _easy_?"

"No. I mean that it is easy to go out and _literally_ fight crime. It's harder to do the behind the scenes work that _prevents _crime. Crime is based in poverty and ignorance, and in people feeling they have no other choice. We have to give them another choice – or at least I do. Crime doesn't occur without _criminals_, and if I can make fewer criminals, it _is_ logical that there will be less crime. But it's not going to happen overnight. It probably won't even happen in my lifetime. It's the hard slog, building schools and re-invigorating neighborhoods; it's not the immediate gratification of punching someone in the head."

"I would miss punching people in the head."

"I can oblige you every so often – for old times' sake."

Dick blinked at Bruce. "That is the second joke you've made this week."

"See? I'm changing already."

* * *

Devon sat with the phone in her hand, looking down at Larry's contact information. She had told her grandmother that she would call him, and she had to, as much as she was hated it.

She called the number and waited until he picked up.

"It's about damn time. Where have you been?" His voice snarled through the phone.

"Charming as always, Larry."

"You didn't answer me."

"I've been busy."

"This is unacceptable. When I call you or text you, you respond. End of discussion. Do you _get_ me?"

"Yeah, I get you." She said bitterly. "What did you want?"

"Your grandmother said you didn't do well on the _test_?"

_Thanks, Grandma_.

Devon sighed. "No. I didn't. And I don't think I'm going to do any better in the _class_. I think I should drop it."

"Not an option."

"Why not?"

"Hey! You do _not _get to ask questions or make decisions. You are to _do _what I say _when _I say it."

"I'm trying."

"Yeah. So I hear. Try harder. And what's this I hear about a boyfriend?"

_Crap, how much did Grandma tell him_?

"He's no one. Just gave me a ride home. That's all. Really."

There was silence on the other end for a long moment. "Yeah, well, that's good, because we are _not _paying for you to get your MRS degree."

It was Devon's turn to be quiet.

"You have until the end of the semester to get it done. Do you hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you. And then _we're_ done, right? I get my trust and the mortgage is paid off, and you leave us the _hell _alone."

She heard Larry's ugly laugh. "Yes, little girl. Then we're done."

* * *

**Author's Note**: For those of you who are not familiar with the MRS degree, it's when a woman attends a college with the desire or intention of catching a husband.

This chapter is a culmination of something that has bugged me for a long time – the fact that Bruce Wayne has dragged all these boys, for whom he is the father figure (or actual father) into a life that is, on a daily basis, not only very dangerous, but very lonely, and has condemned them, essentially to a life without (functionally) any connections to anyone outside the life, or to an early death. As a father, he has failed at the most basic of paternal duties: keeping his children safe. So this is my reaction – he has finally, with Damian coming into the picture and trying to follow in Bruce's footsteps, decided that this life is a curse, and that it is not something he wants his children to continue.

Let's see how _that _works out!

Thank you all for reading, and please review!


	7. Chapter 7

**Gotham City**

**Later that Night  
**

Devon sat on her bed in her pajamas, legs crossed, staring sightlessly at her textbook. She had been trying, in vain, to study for over two hours, but had not absorbed anything that she had read. In fact, she was certain that she had gone over the same passage at least four times.

She had actually spent more of the the last two hours thinking and fretting over her conversation with Larry. He wasn't kidding. He really wasn't kidding, and, if she ever wanted to be free of him, she had to do what he said. And that meant that she had to get rid of Dick.

_Damn it_! She really liked him. A lot. More than she had liked any other guy in a long, long time.

Her phone rang, and she looked at it. It was a number she did not recognize, and, although normally she would have rejected the call, she picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Devon."

Her heart leapt. "Hey, Dick." She said slowly.

"Is it too late to be calling?"

She pushed aside the books and stretched out on the bed. "No. No. After all, this is my social time."

_What are you doing_? _Don't get __**comfortable**_!

He laughed. "It is eleven already, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"So what are you doing?" His voice, in the phone, sounded smooth, and oh, crap, _so sexy_!

She groaned. "Trying to study. Failing miserably."

"You shouldn't be studying on a Saturday night."

"Oh, yeah? What should I be doing?" _Hanging up_. _Hang up, already, Devon_!

"I don't know. Dancing, maybe."

She laughed, even though her self-preservation was nagging her. "Dancing, huh? I don't think I've been dancing in well, _ever_, I guess."

"You should go dancing."

"Are you offering?" _Shut up, Devon_.

"I would love to go dancing with you."

She knew she should back pedal. She could _not_ commit to go dancing with him! "Maybe next week."

"Okay. It's a date."

_Oh, Lord, no_! _Not a date_!

She laughed and tried to dissuade him. "I don't think you'd want to dance with me. I'm sure I'll step on your feet."

"We don't have to dance _fast_. We could dance _very _slowly."

Thoughts of the two of them swaying to music, their bodies pressed together, entered her mind. Visions of her hands threaded into the hair at the nape of his neck, his blue, blue eyes staring into hers.

_Crap_! _Stop thinking about him like that! Change the subject_!

"How was dinner with your family?"

He sighed. "Weird."

"Why?"

"Br – my dad wants to make some changes, and I'm not sure how I feel about it."

"Is it small, like he wants to change his aftershave, or big, like he wants to quit his job and move to Barbados?"

"More like the second one."

"Oh." She chewed on her lip. "Will you have to drop out?"

"No, nothing like that." He took a deep breath. "He wants me to take on a bigger role in his company. The family company." He corrected.

"He wants you to work there full time?"

"No. Luckily. I might have to take classes later in the day so I can work mornings, though, but that's not a big deal."

"You don't want to work for your dad?"

There was a long silence. "Yeah, I do – I don't know. I kind of always knew that I would work there, some day, but I'll probably have to give up – my other part-time job, and I – I don't know if I want to."

"The computer job?"

He was quiet again. "Yeah. I really like it."

She closed her eyes. She had to cut this off – she was becoming involved in him. "Dick, listen –" she began, and closed her eyes, trying to gather strength.

"Yeah?" Did his voice seem a little unsure?

"Dick," she started again, and then, after a quick lapse, rushed forward. "I _like _you. I _really _do. You're an incredibly nice guy, and you're sweet, and you're so – _sexy _that my clothes want to fall off on their own when you're around – "

"That sounds like you're brushing me off and coming on to me at the same time."

"Crap. I don't mean to be. I'm just trying to tell you that – that right now is _not_ a good time for me. I – have to concentrate on my studying. I can't, as much as I want to, _God_, I want to – I can't see you. I'm sorry."

There was silence at the end of the line, and she, discomfited, continued. "I would really love to be your friend, though." She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and held her hand up to her head. _Shit!_ _ Why did I say that_?

"My friend?" He sounded incredulous.

"I'm – I'm sorry." _God, I hate my life_.

"No. It's okay. Really." There was a long period of quiet. "I – I'll see you around, I guess."

He ended the call and she looked at the phone for an extended moment. "Shit." She sat up and threw the phone across the room, where it bounced against the wall and fell to the floor.

* * *

Dick stood on the terrace looking out at the lawns, his phone in his hand. It was 11:07. He wanted to call Devon. Although he had said only jokingly that he would call her between eleven and eleven-thirty each night, he _wanted_ to call her – wanted to talk to her.

Dinnertime with Bruce and Damian had been – odd. Bruce had mentioned nothing more about his plans, although he told Dick in private that he would not put them into play for a few months – there were apparently some cases that he wanted solved.

The ensuing time, Bruce said, would also give him the opportunity to convince Damian and Tim – especially Damian – that his was a good plan. Dick was skeptical that Damian would _ever _accept it, however. Too much of his identity was tied up in being Robin to let it go easily. And he had given up a lot to be with Bruce – more than anyone else.

Dick was dying to talk to someone about what Bruce had proposed. He had considered calling Wally, or Roy, but could not bring himself to do it. They might both agree wholeheartedly with Bruce. It was not that he himself _disagreed_ with Bruce, but he wasn't sure that he _agreed _with him. It was strange.

It was also strange that he felt that he couldn't discuss it with Wally and Roy, even though they had been his best friends for more than ten years. So why did he want to talk to Devon about it?

_Because she has no history with you – she has no vested interest_.

He was not, however, foolish; he had no intention of betraying his family or their identities. He just wanted to talk to someone who would listen without judging him – or Bruce. Someone who could be impartial.

He clenched his jaw and pulled up her contact in his phone. He had made it earlier, carefully entering in her phone number from what she had written on his palm. He took a deep breath and called her now, and was relieved when she answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Devon." He hoped he sounded – casual.

"Hey, Dick." She sounded pleased, he thought.

"Is it too late to be calling?" _Am I being creepy_?

He heard some noise, like the sound of a book slamming shut. "No. No. After all, this is my social time."

He laughed. "It is eleven already, isn't it?" He knew very well that it was.

"Yeah."

"So what are you doing?" He sat down on an Adirondack chair on the terrace.

She groaned. "Trying to study. Failing miserably."

He smiled, although he knew she couldn't see him. "You shouldn't be studying on a Saturday night."

"Oh, yeah? What should I be doing?"

_Kissing me_.

"I don't know. Dancing, maybe." He could see himself dancing with her.

She laughed, and he felt a thrill go down his spine. "Dancing, huh? I don't think I've been dancing in well, _ever_, I guess."

"You should go dancing." He leaned back into the chair.

_With me_.

"Are you offering?"

_I'm offering a lot_.

"I would love to go dancing with you." He closed his eyes, hoping he didn't sound desperate.

"Maybe next week."

_Please tell me I don't have to wait until next week to see you_.

"Okay. It's a date." He grinned, already anticipating it, even though it was seven days away.

She laughed again. "I don't think you'd want to dance with me. I'm sure I'll step on your feet."

"We don't have to dance _fast_. We could dance _very _slowly."

Thoughts of the two of them swaying to music, their bodies pressed together, entered his mind. His hands on the small of her back, slipping down to her rear, urging her closer against him.

_Damn it, Dick_! _Stop thinking about that! You'll get a hard-on – crap_!

"How was dinner with your family?"

He sighed, and shifted in the chair. "Weird."

"Why?"

"Br – my dad wants to make some changes, and I'm not sure how I feel about it." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Is it small, like he wants to change his aftershave, or big, like he wants to quit his job and move to Barbados?"

"More like the second one." He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Oh." She was quiet a moment. "Will you have to drop out?"

"No, nothing like that." He took a deep breath. "He wants me to take on a bigger role in his company. The family company."

_The **other**__family company._

"He wants you to work there full time?"

His eyes grew wide. "No. Luckily. I might have to take classes later in the day so I can work mornings, though, but that's not a big deal."

"You don't want a job there, do you?"

He shook his head, thinking. "Yeah, I do – I don't know. I kind of always knew that I would work there, some day, but I'll probably have to give up – my other part-time job, and I – I don't know if I want to." He stood and restlessly walked to the edge of the terrace.

"The computer job?"

He put his hand on top of his head. He hated to lie. "Yeah. I really like it."

"Dick, listen –" she began, and stopped.

_Shit. This does not sound good. _

He squeezed his eyes shut again, as if, by doing that, he would close out bad news. "Yeah?"

"Dick," she started again, and then, after a quick lapse, rushed forward. "I _like _you. I _really _do. You're an incredibly nice guy, and you're sweet, and you're so – _sexy _that my clothes want to fall off on their own when you're around – "

He frowned, although the thought of her clothes falling off should have pleased him. "That sounds like you're brushing me off and coming on to me at the same time."

"Crap. I don't mean to be. I'm just trying to tell you that – that right now is _not_ a good time for me. I – have to concentrate on my studying. I can't, as much as I want to, _God_, I want to – I can't see you. I'm sorry."

He was quiet, not believing his ears.

"I would really love to be your friend, though." She continued.

"My friend?" He was incredulous.

_What the hell_? _**I'm **the one who tells girls **that**!_

"I'm – I'm sorry." She did sound regretful.

_What am I supposed to say when a girl cuts me loose? It's okay? _"No. It's okay. Really." His hand tightened around the phone. "I – I'll see you around, I guess."

He clicked off and stared down at the phone, his face dark. Then, with a sigh and a shake of his head, he slid it into his pocket and stared up at the stars in the sky, wondering what had gone wrong.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

Nightwing sat on the top of the Historical Museum in Irving Grove, a neighborhood in Gotham, idly swinging one leg over the side, staring out over the city, brooding. He stayed in Gotham after leaving the Manor – for what reason he did not want to ponder, although he considered swinging by Devon's. He was trying to resist that impulse, though, because he knew it was not at all normal to want to spy on a girl who had recently said she was not interested.

_She didn't say she wasn't interested. She said that she has to focus on her classes. You can understand that, Dick_. _How often have you felt pulled in two_?

_Or three? Or four?_

Still, he was angry – angry for allowing himself to feel a moment of vulnerability with Devon. He had felt it – that softening of resolve, that _desire_ to let someone in, that certainty that Devon wanted him as much as he wanted her. He had not imagined it; he saw the interest flicker in her eyes, felt the heat between them. He had been so sure that it was the start of something more with Devon, that to be shot down was – disappointing, to say the least, as well as surprising.

He sighed. Sulking wouldn't do any good. If she didn't want him, she didn't want him. No amount of pouting would change that.

The comm buzzed in his ear, and he touched it to activate it.

"Nightwing here." His voice was desultory.

"Nightwing." Batman's voice crackled. "Let me guess. You're on patrol."

"Being careful."

"We have a situation in Gotham."

Dick knew what that meant. He shook off his miasma of self-pity, stood and shot out a hook to a nearby building. "Oh, yeah? What's up?" With grace born of years flying through the air, he swung out over the streets.

"We have a jewelry store robbery in downtown, and a home invasion in Bristol."

"In Bristol?" Bristol was where Wayne Manor was located. That concerned Nightwing.

"I'm taking that one. You and Robin rendezvous for the robbery. Sending location." Nightwing's watch beeped as coordinates arrived.

Another voice scratched onto the line, petulant and angry. "I can take care of it by myself."

"You will take care of it _with_ Nightwing." Batman's voice brooked no rebellion.

"I am not a child!" Robin had made that argument more times than Nightwing could remember.

"You will take the Batmobile from the cave and _drive _to the robbery."

"Drive?" Robin's voice was obviously gleeful. "Okay. I'll let Nightwing help with the jewelry store."

"Stay off the rooftops. That goes for you, too, Nightwing."

Nightwing smiled as he landed on a roof and pulled his hook free from the last. With a running leap, he secured a line to the next building. "Is it Billy Numerous?"

"There seems to be only one thief at the moment. Keep me posted."

"Good thing I'm in Gotham tonight."

"Yes. Good thing." Batman's voice was inscrutable, as usual, and Nightwing wondered whether his mentor truly thought it was a good thing, or whether he was being – speculative.

One could never tell with the bat.

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**The Next Day**

Sundays were Dick's only _truly_ lazy day. He set no alarm, left all of his blinds closed, and slept as late as he could. When he did finally rise, usually well after eleven, he went no farther than his front door, and there only to retrieve his newspapers, _The_ _Blüdhaven Bulletin, The Gotham Gazette_, _The Gotham Globe_, and _The New York Times_. He didn't actually read all four from front to back, but he liked to skim them to keep abreast of all the news. Although he could get much of the same news from the internet, he enjoyed the crispness of the paper and the smell of the ink, both of which took him back to Sunday mornings when he was a child in the Wayne Manor.

After gathering his reading material for the day, he typically ate an enormous bowl of cereal and turned on the television to watch sports while he read the papers.

He rarely changed into street clothes on these days, preferring to stay in his underwear or pajama bottoms, depending on the chill in the air.

He also never cooked on Sunday. He ordered two giant pizzas at lunch time and Chinese delivery at dinner, and he never, ever worked out.

It was his one day to do absolutely nothing.

So, when his doorbell rang as he was sitting on the sofa eating pizza and watching football, he swore and reluctantly went to the door.

Roy Harper stood outside, one hand clutching the hand of his daughter, Lian, and the other, a diaper bag. When Dick opened the door, the little girl's face lit up. "Uncle Dick! Uncle Dick!"

Dick opened his arms and scooped her up. "Hello, my little dumpling!" He was glad suddenly that he was wearing pajama bottoms and not just underwear.

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him enthusiastically on the cheek.

"Hey, Dick." Roy gave a chagrined smile and gripped Dick's outstretched hand. "Are we bothering you?"

Dick shook his head. "Of course not. Come in."

"Pizza!" Lian squirmed out of Dick's embrace and ran for the pizza.

"Will she eat sausage?" Dick asked as Roy dumped Lian's bag on the table.

"She'll eat your _arm_." He smiled as the little girl expertly ripped off a piece of the pizza and settled on the sofa to eat it. "Hey, man, you got a beer?"

"Help yourself."

"Thank God. I _need _one." Roy grabbed one from the refrigerator. "You want one?"

"Nah. I'm good." He watched as Roy collapsed at the kitchen table. "Where's Jade?"

Roy shrugged as he spun the bottle cap on the table in front of him. "Don't know. Probably with her father knocking off a museum or assassinating the prime minister of some third-world country." He looked at Dick. "She's been gone about a week."

Dick sat down opposite him. "I'm sorry. I didn't know she'd fallen back into her old ways."

"Uncle Dick! Uncle Dick! Dora! Dora!" She brought the remote control over to Dick, and, smiling, he obediently flipped the channel to cartoons, and Lian went happily back to the sofa.

Roy watched his daughter with love. "Yeah. It's been hard for Jade, going straight. And for us – when she fails."

Dick, knowing that, when Roy was upset, he didn't bother to eat, nudged him. "Hey, have some pizza, dude. It's really good. There's meat lovers' and sausage."

"Thanks, man." Roy did as Dick suggested, and, when he sat back at the table, he seemed a little less agitated.

"So you've been Mr. Mom?"

"Yeah." He nodded around a mouthful of pizza. "Haven't been able to go out to _work_. Can't find anyone to leave her with. Paula can't really _chase _after her, you know, and it's not fair to her, anyway."

"What about Artemis?"

He sighed again. "I – don't like to see Artemis."

Dick frowned. "Why not?"

Roy's handsome face pulled into a scowl. "Because she's always telling me I should leave Jade. Kick her out. And I – get tired of defending her – Jade, I mean. Look, I know Artemis means well, and she loves Lian, but, right now, I don't need her telling me what a loser her sister is. I need to continue to believe that Jade will – change. And come back." He indicated his daughter, standing in front of the television, mimicking the actions of the cartoon characters on the screen. "Lian _needs_ to believe that Jade will come back."

He and Dick watched Lian ruefully for a few long moments, as she lifted her arms and sang the song on the screen, and as she jumped up and down in glee.

"She doesn't really have a concept of time right now, so Jade being gone this long hasn't really impacted her _a lot_. But," he shrugged, "that won't last long."

"What can I do?" Dick ached to help his friend.

"Just her being here for a little while is great. Gives her new surroundings. We were both going crazy in Star City. You can only go to the park so many times before you want to rip your hair out. Besides, all the mothers who bring their kids to the playground think I'm divorced and keep hitting on me. And I _don't _need that right now."

"You can stay as long as you want, brother. You know that."

A smile curved up one side of the archer's mouth. "An afternoon is good, believe me." He threw back some of the beer. "So what's going on with you?"

Dick leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms on his chest. "A lot." He nodded, thinking. "A lot."

"Like what?"

"Well, someone tried to kill me last week."

"What else is new?" Roy ripped a piece of crust in half and began chewing it.

"A sniper."

"Huh. _That's_ new."

"Bruce is worried – that someone's targeting me – or us."

"We always have a bullseye painted on our chests."

"Yeah. But what scared him was that I was hit on a rooftop, while I was with Tim."

"So someone was following one of you?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. It could have been a crime of opportunity."

"And what do you think?"

Dick shrugged. "I don't know."

Roy shook his head. "It doesn't seem like it _could_ be a crime of opportunity. Assassins don't just _hang_ out on rooftops with a sniper rifle."

Dick blew air out of his lips in one deep exhalation. "No. They don't."

"Has it happened since then?"

"No. But Bruce has _really _freaked out."

"What do you mean?"

Dick decided to come clean. Roy might side with Bruce, but Dick really needed to bounce everything off of someone. "He's thinking of giving it up."

"Giving what up?"

"The _life_."

Roy's eyes bulged for a moment. "You're kidding me."

Dick shook his head. "Nope. And he wants _all _the Robins to give it up."

"All of you?"

"Yep. And work at Wayne Enterprises."

"Bruce is going soft? This is serious."

"Yeah. Tell me. He wants us to have a _normal _life. He wants _me _to start working with Lucius to _learn the ropes_."

"Shit."

"Hey, you want a job at Wayne? I'm sure we could use you in security. Head of security, of course."

"Nah, man. That's okay. I got it under control right now. G.A. Is floating me."

"Good old Ollie."

"Yeah. I don't know what I'd do without him. Hey, did you hear he asked Dinah to marry him?"

"No!" Dick was surprised. Oliver Queen was as confirmed a bachelor as Bruce.

"She said no, of course."

"Should have known." Dinah Lance, Black Canary, was just as leery of marriage as Ollie.

"They'll make it down the aisle someday."

"They'll both probably be in walkers and wearing dentures."

Roy laughed. "Probably." He looked at Dick carefully. "And what about you? You and Barbara back together?"

A sad smile came to Dick's face. "No. She pretty much put the brakes to anything like that."

"Hey, man, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so was I, but now..." He trailed off, and shrugged.

Roy knew what that meant. "You've found someone else."

Dick looked at his friend, and now his smile was a little mischievous. "I _found _someone, but I don't know if _she_ knows it yet."

Roy laughed again. "You _cannot_ be telling me that there is a woman out there who is immune to the famous Dick Grayson charms."

"Apparently."

Roy clapped in mirth, which brought Lian scampering over to him, demanding to be picked up. He put her on his knee and bounced her up and down gently. "I can't believe it! You, the man who has charmed the pants – literally – off at least _three _current or former members of the Team and at least _two_ formermembers of the Teen Titans."

"_One_ former member of the Titans."

"Yeah, I don't believe that."

"I know who you're talking about, and I am going to tell you that I did _not_ sleep with her."

"Oh, you are _such _a liar."

Dick threw up his hands. "Whatever. Believe what you want."

Roy chuckled. "So, who is it? She on the Team?"

Dick shook his head slowly. "No. You don't know her. She's not in the life."

"You're kidding me. A civilian? That will _not _turn out well."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Dude, don't get me wrong. Go for it. But you know as well as I that our lifestyles do _not_ make for good relationships. Especially when the other party has _no_ idea that the places you're disappearing to every night are _not_ strip clubs."

Dick looked away. Roy was right.

"Yeah." He sounded disconsolate, and Roy leaned over and punched him lightly on the arm.

"But if Bruce has his way, of course, you'll just be a working stiff at Wayne Enterprises, and _that_ problem will disappear. So maybe Bruce has it right. You get a normal life and you don't have to lie to your girlfriend."

Dick grimaced. "She's not my girlfriend."

"Give her time."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I hoped you enjoyed my "he said/she said" telephone conversation between Dick and Devon. That's one of the things I enjoy most with characters who are hiding things from the other – the fact that they each have disparate agendas!

I also hope that you liked the appearance of DC's sexiest archer, Roy Harper! He really is some eye candy! I enjoy writing for him; I think he has a lot going on under that shock of ginger hair. I also like his soft, paternal side, hence the introduction of Lian, who is about four here.

Anyway, I hope you liked it, and please review!


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **I hope you are enjoying this fic! And, if you are, the price is REVIEWING IT! So do so!** ; )  
**

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

"I don't see how it adds up, Grandma." Devon ran her hands through her hair, lifting it from her neck before letting it fall again. She looked at the piles of receipts spread out on the kitchen table.

Her grandmother rolled her eyes impatiently. "It's only a couple of dollars, Devon. It's not as if it's the difference between life and death."

Devon stuck her bottom lip out mulishly. "I don't like anything unaccounted for."

"It's less than fifty dollars. I don't think that it is going to bring the IRS down on our heads."

She looked at her grandmother a long time before answering. "Yeah. I guess."

A text alert from the phone in Devon's pocket sounded, and her heart leapt. Could it be Dick? She didn't like to jump to conclusions, but, to be frank, not many people sent her texts, so the probability was high that it was him – even though she had told him, essentially, to go away. That did not mean, though, that she _wanted _him to go away.

However, with her grandmother sitting across the table watching her, she did not want to pull the phone out and look. She pushed a pile of receipts to the side, and pulled the laptop closer so that she could enter the details of each receipt in a spreadsheet.

"Did I hear you get a text?" Her grandmother looked at her suspiciously.

Devon looked up from the keyboard, trying to be nonchalant. "What?"

"I thought I heard a text alert."

Devon shook her head slowly. "No. I don't think so."

There was another alert, and Devon sighed silently.

"There it is." Her grandmother looked at her triumphantly.

Devon looked down at her pocket. "Okay."

"Don't you want to see who it is?"

"Not particularly."

"Is it that boy again? Didn't you get rid of him?"

Devon stood up suddenly. "Yes, for your information, I _did_. I got _rid_ of him. Are you happy?"

"It's for the best."

"The best for _who_, Grandma? For _you_? For Larry? Because it is certainly not for _me_!"

Her grandmother stood now. "Oh, you think this is for _me_? I don't give a _damn _about this _stupid_ diner or living in Gotham! I am only here because of _you_!"

"Because of _me_?" Devon gave a mirthless laugh. "I never wanted to come here! And I certainly never wanted to spend the last six years as a frigging _waitress _or as a lackey for _those people_!"

Her grandmother straightened to her full height. "We didn't have much of a choice. Your parents left you _nothing_! Not even a will! That _trust _that you have, this diner – it's from _those people_. _They _are the only reason we aren't living in housing assistance, on food stamps." She pointed at her granddaughter. "Don't you forget that. Ever. Because they gave it to you, and they can take it away. So, if those texts are from _that _boy, text him back and tell him to leave you alone!" She shoved her chair under the table and left the room.

Devon cleared the table with one sweep of her arm, and watched the receipts fly up into the air and flutter down, all over the floor. She stomped from the kitchen and went to her room, slamming the door behind her. Wiping angry tears from her face, she pulled the phone from her pocket and pulled up the texts. They were both from – Larry.

"Crap. Just what I need."

She read the first message.

_Got you a little present._

A chill went down her spine. Larry getting her a present? It was bound to be much more sinister than it sounded. She looked at the next message that he had sent.

_It's outside your door_.

She went with trepidation to the door that led down the stairs and to the diner, and opened it. A long box sat on the landing, wrapped in brightly colored gift paper.

She picked it up hesitantly. It was very heavy.

_Well, at least it didn't blow up, _Devon thought. _ And it's not ticking._

She carried it to the kitchen and laid it on the table, noticing that all of the receipts had been picked up – by her grandmother, obviously. Her way of saying sorry.

"What is that?" The older woman asked, sorting the papers.

"A gift from Larry, apparently." Devon began to pull off the paper.

"Hmm."

"You suspicious, too?"

"Yes."

Devon exposed a nondescript brown cardboard box with a tight fitting lid, and, after wrestling with it, she was able to pry it off to reveal the contents.

Devon reached in and pulled out a long metal carrying case of some sort, and, her stomach starting to tie in knots, she pushed aside the cardboard box and laid the case on the table.

Hands shaking, she unlatched the case and pushed the lid back.

"My God." Her grandmother breathed, and Devon echoed those words silently, looking down at the rifle nestled in the foam-lined case, along with a scope, a mount, a bipod, and everything else a well-equipped sniper would need, including night vision goggles.

Devon shook her head. "No. No. No." She stepped back from the table and fumbled for the phone in her pocket.

"Devon, calm down. I'm sure this isn't what it looks like."

She turned on her grandmother angrily. "What does it look like, Grandma? A lamp? He wants me to _kill _someone."

"I'm sure you're wrong."

"Oh, yeah." Devon's voice was bitter. "It's just a _conversation starter_."

She called Larry on her phone.

He answered almost immediately. "So, you like it?"

"_Like it_? Have you lost your _mind_?"

"What?" He sounded hurt. "That gun is one of the best in the world, and you don't like it?"

"Why did you send me a sniper rifle, Larry? Why?"

"It's not for skeet shooting, that's for sure."

"I am _not _going to kill _anyone_! And I haven't shot a gun in over six years."

"Like riding a bicycle. Besides, like I said, it's one of the most accurate sniper rifles in the world. It'll cover a lot of sins."

"Have you lost your mind?" She asked again. "I am _not_ an assassin."

"That's good, because we don't want you to _actually_ kill anyone. You just have to make it – close. You know, make it look good. Put on a show."

"Put on a show? What the hell are you talking about?"

"We are trying to put the fear of God into someone."

"So you're going to – what? Pretend there's a hit out on him?"

"Something like that."

"Well, I'm not your girl. That's not my line of work."

"Well," he mimicked her, "I say you are."

"That's not my mission."

"It is now. You see, _our _employers want to see more _value_ added to your contract."

"It's not a contract. It's more like _blackmail_."

"They prefer to call it a _long-term investment_, but, at the moment, they are not seeing the wisdom in the investment, and I convinced them that this will make it more worth their while."

"I don't care. Get someone else."

"We did. He didn't work out. Forgot that we didn't want the target _dead_. We had to – cut him loose."

_Cut his throat, more like_, she thought.

Despite the knowledge that those who displeased Larry's employers often ended up dead, she was not going to become an assassin for him. Even if they really didn't want her to kill anyone. If she was caught, it was all over. "I am not doing it."

"This is _not _up for discussion."

"You can't force me."

"You're right. I can't. But if you refuse, I can promise that your life – and your grandmother's, will be a little less _comfortable_."

Devon was silent.

"Good girl. Sleep on it. You don't have to let me know your decision right away."

"Who's the target?"

"Ah. Good. You've made up your mind."

"No. I haven't. I just want to know who I'd be attempting to kill."

"_Attempting_ is the right word. Wound, not kill. I'll get you the details soon. When we're ready for you to carry it out."

"I didn't say I'd do it."

"You'll do it."

She ignored his assured tone. "What about my other – mission?" She gritted her teeth in frustration.

"You're to continue with that. In fact, I have some intel for you."

"What is it?"

"He walks his dog every night at seven."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later that Night**

Devon lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. She didn't like this development – not one bit. She did not want to be any deeper into her spurious uncle's machinations, or those of his employers. She did not know who his employers were, of course – she doubted even Larry knew their actual identities, but she doubted that they were church-going people.

She didn't want to kill anyone – or even _pretend _to kill someone. Damn it! Why couldn't everyone just leave her alone and let her get her stupid education and let her live her life?

_Because you have something that they have a use for._

She wiped tears from her face. She didn't want it. She hadn't ever _wanted _it. All she ever wanted was to be normal. That's _all. _Nothing else.

She looked at the alarm clock next to her bed. Just past eleven. At this time last night, she had been talking on the phone to a cute boy, pretending that she _could_ have a normal life. And, tonight, she was a hired assassin.

Why did life have to be so unfair?

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Night**

Devon threw the dishes into the kitchen sink with more force than necessary. She had been in a foul mood since the night before; she had not slept much, the breakfast shift had been busier than usual, one of her classes had been canceled without warning, and traffic home on the bus had been extra heavy. Now she was a bear – growling and snapping at everything her grandmother said or did, and overreacting to the tiniest aggravations.

"Careful with those plates! We've already broken three of that set." Her grandmother admonished her.

Devon stood before the sink, staring down at the fourth broken plate, frowning. "Yeah, okay." She started to pick the shards up, and one particularly sharp piece cut her. "Shit!" She dropped it, and pulled her hand back.

"What happened?" Her grandmother came rushing over to her.

Devon sucked on the bleeding finger and shook her head. "Cut my finger."

"On what?" Her grandmother looked in the sink.

"And broke a plate." Devon admitted.

Her grandmother gave an aggrieved sigh. "Now we have only four of those plates left."

"Sorry," Devon said around her finger.

"What am I going to do with you? Let me see it." She held her hand out.

Devon allowed her grandmother to look at it. It had stopped bleeding and did not look at all deep.

"It looks like it's healing already. Just wash it off and you'll be fine."

Devon pulled her hand away slowly. "Yeah. I'm always fine."

Her grandmother put her hands on her hips. "You have been in a _lousy_ mood tonight. What is going on?"

Devon looked at her grandmother as if the older woman was crazy. "You're kidding me. Right? You must be!" She pointed in the direction of her bedroom. "Larry sent me a _sniper rifle_."

"He doesn't expect you to kill anyone. He told me."

Devon dropped her arm. "What if I accidentally hit the person? What if I _do_ kill the guy, by mistake? I don't want to be a _murderer!_"

Her grandmother smiled slightly, and laid a comforting hand on Devon's arm. "You won't. You were _trained_ for this. You can do it."

She shook her head. "I haven't _touched _a gun since I was fifteen. And I don't want to."

"Don't worry. Really. Everything will work out."

Devon looked at her grandmother wearily. "Yeah. Sure. It'll be _dandy_." She sighed. "I'm going to go study. Thanks for dinner."

She dragged herself to her room and threw herself down on her bed. She still had that damn history test that week, and she had not studied for it since Saturday. Listlessly, she pulled the textbook from her backpack and opened to the first page of the chapter on Mesoamerica.

After gazing at the page for a minute, she shook her head. She had to do this. She couldn't sit around and stare at it mindlessly for _another_ night, She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to center and calm herself, trying to release the worry – the worry about school, about Larry's request, about _everything_.

_Clear your mind_, she thought. _Let it go_.

Just then, the text alert on her phone sounded, and she opened her eyes. She dug the phone from her pocket, dreading the message. It was from Larry.

_I'm sending a cab for you._

"No, God, no." She groaned, and responded to the text.

_**I have homework.**_

His response came back quickly.

_Too bad. It will be there in ten minutes_

She sighed and shook her head. As much as she wanted to tell Larry to take a long walk on a short pier, she knew she couldn't. She put aside her books and dressed in the clothes she had shed only an hour before when she had arrived home.

She pulled on her shoes and went to the living room, where her grandmother was watching a drama avidly.

"Larry texted me. He wants me for something."

She looked at Devon and smiled. "Okay, dear. Be careful."

"Yeah. Careful." She pushed off the door frame and was about to leave when she turned suddenly. "How do you have such faith in Larry?"

Her grandmother smiled. "I have faith in you."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and, finally, Devon smiled. "Thanks, Grandma."

She grabbed a jacket from the closet, and dashed down the stairs and out the back door.

The taxi was already waiting at the curb, and she climbed in, trying to quell a feeling of unease within her.

The driver was a middle-aged man she was certain she had never seen before who, upon her shutting the door, started the engine and pulled into the street.

"Where are we going?"

He did not answer, and she turned to look out the window. The streets of Gotham, illuminated only by garish neon or sickly streetlights, were sliding by, and she tried not to panic as the minutes started to stretch.

She wished that she had brought a weapon of some sort, or that she had not gotten into the car at all. To be frank, she really did not know what Larry's intentions were – perhaps his employers had decided she was more trouble than she was worth. And if that were true, it would also be true that she had willingly gotten in a cab and gone to her death.

She pulled out her phone and pulled up Larry's texts to her.

_**Where the hell is this cab taking me? **_ She texted to him.

It took a few long seconds before an answer came back.

_To me. Why? You scared?_

_**I'm not scared of you.**_

_What are you scared of then?_

She decided not to respond.

The taxi finally rolled to a stop near the docks, in an area of run-down warehouses.

The driver shoved a thumb in the direction of a door in the front of one of the warehouses. "In there."

Devon took a deep breath and surveyed her surroundings. _Please, God, don't let me die tonight._

She stepped from the cab, and barely had time to close the door before it sped away. Great.

She looked at the building, lit by an anemic bulb that seemed to attract every moth in the vicinity, and, taking a deep breath, tried the door handle. It turned easily, and she opened the door with trepidation.

It was a huge warehouse, ablaze with fluorescent lights, completely empty but for a few piles of trash scattered within and a large metal cabinet against one wall.

And Larry. He sat on a folding chair in the middle of the room, bent over his phone, an earpiece in one ear. He was a massive man, blond and muscular, and could be accounted as handsome by anyone who liked beefed-up, steroid types.

"Go! Go, you little ass! Run! Damn it – fumble!" He said to no one.

Watching football.

_You've got to be kidding me_, Devon thought.

She walked over to him, and, after a few moments, he looked up.

"Two minutes." He held up a finger, and she clasped her hands and waited for the half to be over.

Finally, he pulled the wire free from his ear and stood up to face her.

"It took you damn long enough to get here."

"I wasn't driving." She pointed out.

He gave her a fulminating look. "Whatever."

"Why am I here?" She crossed her arms.

"Why?" He gave a shark-like smile. "Because I like to see you jump."

She dropped her arms. "All right. I'm going."

He laughed and grabbed her arm, stilling her. "Just kidding. Besides," his smile grew, "how are you going to get back home?"

Her face reddened. "What do you want?"

He dropped his hand. "To make you a better person, of course." He reached down and grabbed a case much like the one he had sent to the apartment.

"What's this?" Her eyes narrowed.

"A twin of the gun I sent you. Did you like it? It's a beauty, isn't it?" He crouched on the floor and opened the case. "Did you know it could be dis-assembled?" Having said that, he swiftly broke it down and re-assembled it under Devon's interested gaze.

He stood and handed it to her. "You do it."

She gave him a dark look, and snatched it from him with one hand. She got on her knees and began to break the weapon down, and, although it took her considerably longer than Larry, she completed the task, and, when it was again in one piece, she handed it to him.

"Good girl." He smiled, turning the gun over in his hands. "Now it's time to use it."

"On you?" She asked as he returned it to her.

He gave a chuckle and walked to the other side of the warehouse, leaving her staring after him.

He pulled a target bag from behind a pile of rubbish, and dragged it into place. "Go ahead." He called from his position. "Set it up and take a shot."

She pulled the bi-pod from the case and everything else she needed to fire it, and, by the time Larry had sauntered back over, she was nearly ready. She lay on the floor and settled the butt of the gun against her shoulder. The cool metal felt good against her skin, and the peculiar smell that all guns had reminded her of younger days.

She set up her shot with the scope's assistance.

"Don't forget the recoil." Larry stood by her shoulder.

"I won't." She squeezed the trigger.

The suppressor on the gun muffled the shot so that the loudest sound was that of the bullet shell shooting out of the side of the gun, and the recoil on the weapon, that Larry had warned her, barely even moved her shoulder.

He smiled. "Like riding a bicycle. Good shot."

She drew a deep breath. "How can you tell?"

"My expertise. But remember that this is firing in perfect conditions. You'll have to get some real world practice in."

"Yeah. I'll just go to the roof of my building and shoot pigeons."

"Good idea."

"I wasn't serious." She settled back into position and fired again.

"Starting to like it?"

"I never said that I didn't like it. I said I don't want to kill anyone."

"Keep up the practice and you won't."

She sat up. "What do you mean?"

He opened his arms expansively. "Practice will insure that you _don't_ kill anyone. Come here and shoot any time you want. I'll give you the key."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Why are you doing this?"

"A couple of reasons. First, because you need the practice. B – your grandmother told me you weren't feeling confident about this assignment."

Devon rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Grandma."

"You_ should_ thank her. Come here."

She followed him obediently to the large, heavy duty metal cabinet she had noticed earlier.

"Put your thumb here." He pointed to a small electronic pad on one of the doors.

"Is it going to blow up?"

"Only if you try to break in. Go on."

She hesitantly put her thumb to the pad, and heard the whirring of the locks as they disengaged.

She pulled the doors open to reveal an arsenal of guns, knives, tasers, and other miscellaneous weapons and ancillary devices.

"What do you expect me to do with these?"

He shrugged. "Whatever you need to do. Just don't use them against us."

"Thought never crossed my mind." She pulled a knife from the foam surrounding it, and hefted it in her hand. "Aren't you worried someone might steal this stuff – cabinet and all?"

"Nope. I told you. Someone tries to break in, it explodes. Someone tries to move it, it explodes. Get the idea?"

"Yeah, I do."

"So you come here whenever you need to. Do some training. Practice."

"Okay."

"Listen, we'll send you texts when we want you to go into action. It'll probably just be an intersection or a building. 47We may or may not be able to get you access to the building, so you may be on your own sometimes. But remember, cover your face, don't leave any prints."

"I won't."

"This gun will be in this cabinet. Leave it here. When you got out into the field, use the one I sent you."

"I will."

"And you'll find a loose floorboard in front of the window in your bedroom. You can store the gun there. And maybe you'd better find a less conspicuous way to carry it around. Don't forget that you can break it down."

"I won't."

"All right. You're good to go, then. I won't be accessible for the next month or so. Family business."

"How will I get in touch with you? In case something goes wrong?"

"Nothing better go wrong. You can text me, though. Someone will contact you. But emergencies only."

"All right."

"And Devon?"

"Yeah."

"Don't accidentally kill anyone."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I guess someone is not what she seems...at least she's in good company, since Dick has a little secret, too!


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Happy Thanksgiving, all you Americans! And happy Thursday to the rest of the world! As a small holiday present, I present to you a BONUS chapter of _Shatter Me _to enjoy after gorging on turkey and football, or in place of the gorging, if you like! Please, in return, give ME a holiday present, and review!

Yes, this is the same author's note as the one at the beginning of the latest chapter of _The Spirit Within: Part Two: Spirit Born_! So sue me! ; )

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Three Nights Later**

"This is _not _Bruce you're talking about." Wally gaped at Dick, forgetting that his mouth was full of pie.

Artemis gently pushed his jaw shut. "Are you sure it's not a Bruce clone?"

Dick looked at her across the dining table in the apartment that Artemis and Wally shared. They had invited him over for dinner, all of which Artemis had proudly cooked, including the homemade cherry pie.

The two of them lived in married student housing, although they were not, technically, married

"Well, crap." Dick ran his fingers through his hair. "I didn't _think_ it was."

Artemis rolled her eyes. "Dick! I'm kidding."

Dick grinned, flashing his most mischievous smile. "I know. Me, too."

"And he really wants you to give it all up?" Wally, who had finished his pie, had changed chairs, in an instant, without Dick noticing, and was now at his friend's elbow.

Dick jumped. "Shit! Will you _not_ do that?"

Wally smiled. "Sorry. What did Tim say?"

"Say? He hasn't _said _anything. Bruce hasn't told him yet."

"So, what did _you_ say?" Artemis stood with the empty pie plate, but Wally whisked it out of her hands and into the kitchen before she had a chance to move.

"Thanks, babe." She said absently, and sat back down.

Wally darted back to his original seat, next to her, before her rear hit the chair.

"Well, what _could_ I tell him?"

"The truth." Artemis reached out and took hold of Wally's hand.

"I did. I told him that I didn't want to give it up."

"And you don't?" Wally was peering at him critically.

"No."

"You're telling me that _deep down_, in your heart of hearts, that you haven't _wanted_ it, haven't _thought_ about it – just a little?" Wally probed.

"Wanted what?" Dick's eyes narrowed.

"Normalcy. Waking up in a bed rather than in an alley. Walking through a crowd and _not _sizing everyone up as a potential threat."

"No." Dick shook his head confidently.

"Really?" Wally was skeptical. "Never wanted to get married, have a family?"

"Of course I do. _Everyone_ wants that."

"Maybe I should have qualified that – have you ever wanted to get married and have a family, and have _normal_ problems?"

"Well, what constitutes _normal_ in your book, Wally?"

"_Well_, let's see. Normal is no one continually trying to kill you or your family."

"That leaves us all out, then."

"No. No, it doesn't." Wally shook his head. "When Artemis and I get married, we _are_ leaving it all behind. For good. Right, babe?" He turned to his fiancée, who smiled.

"Right." She nodded.

Dick gave her a long look. This had been an ongoing argument between the two of them for a long time, and he wondered if Wally had really succeeded in changing her mind.

Dick gave a crooked smile. "Well, maybe I'm not cut out for domestic bliss."

"So dying alone is the plan?"

"Wally!" Artemis protested.

Dick frowned at Bruce's words, which had been echoed by Wally. He did _not_ want to die alone – he really didn't. But he didn't know if he could be _normal_. "I'm not planning to die alone."

"Dude, it sounds like you're not _planning_ at all."

"I don't know." He shook his head. "Maybe I'm not. I don't know what to do, really. I wish I did. I wish that I could be this great _hero_ and never put anyone else in danger and have a normal life with a wife and kids. But it's _not _going to happen – not like that. But I don't know if I want to give the life up. It seems like I can have one or the other, but not both. And I don't know which I want."

"Dick..." Wally shook his head, heartsick at the turmoil so evident on his best friend's face.

Dick held up his hands. "It's okay. It's something _I _have to wrestle with. Bruce can't make the decision for me. Or you. Or Roy. Or anyone. It has to be me."

Artemis and Wally looked at each other.

"Roy? Have you seen him?" This came from Artemis.

_Crap_! "Yeah. He – and Lian came by yesterday."

"Really?" Artemis asked, coldly. "I've been trying to get in touch with him. He hasn't returned my calls."

Dick rubbed the back of his neck, uneasy. "He's – upset about Jade. Have you heard from her?"

She nodded. "The day she left."

"She called you?"

"Yeah. I think she was trying to get my approval for taking off with – Dad. I didn't give it to her."

"Why'd she go?"

Artemis shook her head. "Because she's selfish and immature and can't deal."

"Can't deal with Roy and Lian?"

"With settling down. With letting someone in. With – everything that's _normal_."

Although it was left unsaid, the words _like you_ hung in the air.

Dick chose to ignore the tacit rebuke. "Roy's had to be a single parent since Jade left, and he's having trouble."

"Why doesn't he call me – us?" Artemis looked at Wally again.

"Don't get mad, Arty, and _please_ don't tell Roy I told you, but he doesn't want you to – undermine Jade."

"Undermine?" She sat back, angry suddenly. "What the hell?"

"Look, _you_ know Jade, probably better than anyone, maybe even better than Roy does, and you don't cut her any slack. And Roy – he _needs_ to give Jade another chance. He doesn't want to cut her out."

"Neither do I!"

"But you're trying tough love, and Roy – he doesn't want to do that. He can't do that. He just wants her back. He just wants her to come back to Lian – to _them_."

Artemis turned away, her lips in a stern line, and Dick sighed. "He just wants support. Not a "_you should"_ or an "_I __told you so_." Just a – hand. Some help."

Artemis was silent for a long moment, then, with a look at Wally, sighed, too. "I can do that. I – love Lian. And Roy. _And_ Jade. I want to be there for them. I just don't know how to get through to Jade, and I'm so _mad_ at her for throwing everything away, and I guess I just think that, if we don't let her get away with it, she'll finally listen – and _understand_." She took a deep breath. "But I get that Roy doesn't want to hear it, so I'll just – stop doing it. And be happy Aunt Artemis." She took Wally's hand. "And he'll be fun Uncle Wally."

Wally grinned. "I can be fun Uncle Wally."

Dick gave a calm smile. "He'll appreciate it. A lot." He nodded. "A lot."

Just then, Brucely, the rescued pit bull that Wally and Artemis had adopted when they got their first apartment together years before, nudged at Dick's hand. The dog had always had a soft spot for Dick, who had never failed to bring a treat for him, and who had always made time to wrestle.

"Wally, it's time for his walk." Artemis squeezed her fiancé's arm.

"Sure thing, Babe. Leave the dishes. I'll load the dishwasher later. Want to come, Dick?"

Dick patted his belly. "Good idea. I need to start burning that _incredible_ dinner off."

Artemis rolled her eyes. "I should be going on the walk, too, then. I don't burn calories like _someone_ we know." She gave Wally a meaningful look.

Wally lifted his hands in defeat. "Hey, don't blame me for my incredible metabolism! If you ran at nearly the speed of sound, you'd be able to eat like a pig, too."

Dick gave him a jaundiced look. "Dude, pigs have _nothing_ on you."

"Thanks, pal."

They grabbed Brucely's leash and went out into the cold autumn evening. Dick zipped up his jacket but Wally, who had neglected to grab his, gave an audible shiver.

"Nights like this make me miss California."

Dick laughed. "Come on, you know you love Gotham."

They turned onto the sidewalk. "Yeah. Not so much. Can't wait to finish my degree and get the hell out."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Go back to where it's _warm_. And, you know, where not so many people are trying to kill me." He stopped while Brucely sniffed a bush.

"So a little island in the Caribbean, then?" He watched as another couple went into the married student housing building.

Wally laughed. "Wherever I get a job, dude. Need to be able to support Artemis and the _six _children she wants to have."

"You're kidding me." Brucely tugged at his leash, and they obliged, following the animal up the street.

"Well, she wants an equal number of boys and girls, and she already had _three_ girls' names picked out, so we have to balance that out with three boys."

"You're going to be busy."

"Before or after the six babies are born? Because I am _seriously_ looking forward to the _before_."

"It seems like both."

They laughed.

"We'll see how she feels after the first pregnancy." Wally watched as Brucely lifted his leg on a lightpost.

"No kidding."

They walked along in companionable silence for a long while, until Wally snapped his fingers. "I forgot to tell you. _I _saw your little crush last week at the science building."

"Devon?"

"Oh, _you_ knew _exactly _who I was talking about." He pulled Brucely away from a small dog being walked by its owner.

"Yeah, of course I do. Do you think I'm chasing four or five women at the same time?"

"N – no. Are you?"

Dick shook his head seriously, and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. "No. And now I don't even know if I'm chasing her."

"Why? She not pretty enough for you?"

"What? Are you crazy? You know I think she's _gorgeous_." He smiled at a co-ed as she walked by.

"Really? Is it because she looks like Zatanna?"

"What?" Dick looked at him, incredulous. "She looks _nothing _like Zee." He watched as Wally gave him a skeptical look. "Because she has dark hair? So every time I date a brunette you're going to say she looks like Zee? And every time I date a redhead you're going to say she looks like Barbara?"

"And every time you bang a blonde I'm going to say she looks like Bette. Yeah, I get it. Okay, you got me. I guess she doesn't look _too _much like Zatanna."

Dick shrugged. "It doesn't matter anyway. She blew me off."

"What happened?"

They stopped while Brucely squatted to relieve himself, and Dick watched as Wally collected the mess in a plastic bag. "We went out for coffee." He began.

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and I kissed her when I dropped her at home."

"Well, that's good, too, isn't it? She a good kisser?"

Dick smiled nostalgically. "Yeah. It was – nice."

"Did she think you're a lousy kisser or something?"

Dick shook his head. "No. Wait. Well, I don't know. I don't think so. But I – I called her later that night, and she told me that she couldn't see me. That she has to concentrate on her classes."

"Ah." Wally gently pulled Brucely out of a neighbor's garden. "Don't you think it might be true?"

Dick shrugged and kicked at a rock. "Yeah. Of course I do. I get it. She's not some debutante or heiress who can afford to take classes over or be on the six-year plan. She has to get high grades and graduate so she can get a good job. I just..." he trailed off, then began again. "I _really _like her. A lot."

"Dick, do you _like_ her because you know her and you like her, or because you want to sleep with her? There is a difference." They moved aside as a man carrying grocery bags walked by on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, there is. I mean, look, I know I don't know her really well, but there is this – attraction I feel. And I did spend some time with her, and I – liked her. I thought there might be a future with her."

Wally stopped and looked at him in shock. "Whoa. Whoa. Are you thinking _seriously _about this girl?"

Dick lifted his shoulders. "I don't know. I want something more than just _coffee_. But not if she doesn't."

Wally looked away for a moment, then turned back to his friend. "I told you I saw her last week, but I didn't tell you what happened."

A chill washed over Dick. "What happened?" He started imagining horrible things in his head. Did Wally see her with another guy? Maybe that's why Devon backed off? Or was she doing something illegal? Taking drugs? Stealing things?

Even though Dick could not see it, Wally blushed. "Man, I don't know if I want to tell you."

Dick's face turned serious. "Wally, I'm already imagining heinous things. Just tell me."

"I think I may have – accidentally!" He was sure to qualify. "Accidentally – made a pass at her. I'm sorry, dude."

Dick gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

Wally sighed. "She came to Dr. Stapp's lab and we got to talking, and I thought she was coming on to me," He rubbed the back of his neck, "and, well, I don't really remember everything that was said, but I think I may have made a fool out of myself."

Dick laughed. "It's okay. She kind of flusters me, too. Did you tell Artemis?"

Wally's eyes grew wide. "Are you crazy? I don't have a death wish."

Dick chuckled. "Good idea. You don't want to piss off the mother of your six children."

"Yeah. She can pin me to the wall with an arrow."

"Dude, she doesn't need an arrow to pin you to the wall."

Wally laughed. "She _is_ pretty incredible."

They saw a figure approaching on the sidewalk and started to move to the side to accommodate her.

The silhouette seemed somehow familiar, in the gait and shape, and Dick realized, in a rush, who it was.

"Hey – uh, hi, Wally. And – Dick." Devon's voice was surprised. She stopped when she came abreast of them, under a street lamp, and Dick saw an uncertain smile on her face.

Dick and Wally exchanged looks, and Dick gave silent thanks that he and Wally had not been speaking of Devon as she approached.

Hey, Devon." Dick's own smile was just as unsure, and Wally's greeting was tremulous, at best.

"I – didn't know you two knew each other." Her smile looked pasted on.

"Yeah." Dick nodded, and looked at his feet. "We – do."

Her smile grew, but she gripped the handles of her backpack so tightly that her knuckles turned white, although, in the gloom, no one noticed. "Uh. Wow. How do you know..." she looked away, too, for a moment. "How're you doing?"

It was clear that she was addressing Dick, and he nodded. "Okay. You know. Same. How do you know – Wally?" He asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Oh, well – he was a T.A. in one of my classes last semester..."

"Chem." Wally interjected, even though he, too, knew that Dick was aware of that fact.

"Oh." Dick looked at him briefly. "Okay. Small world." He indicated the street where they stood. "What brings you here to housing?"

"What?" She seemed unprepared for the question. "Oh. Study group. You know."

"Science?" Dick asked.

"History." She shifted from one foot to the other.

"Oh. On your way to or from?"

"From. Going home now."

"Oh. Well." Dick shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He was not usually tongue-tied around girls, especially exes, but, then, again, he was usually the one doing the breaking up. And she was not _really_ an ex-girlfriend. More like an _almost _girlfriend.

She pointed at the two of them suddenly. "You guys – are you a _couple_? Because, I mean, it's cool and all if you are –"

Wally suddenly made his presence felt by interrupting her. "What?! No! No! Not at all! Did you think?!" He, too, pointed at Dick, and suddenly laughed, a little hysterically. "What? Us? No! I have a girlfriend! Remember? I told you! And Dick – he's had _tons _ of girlfriends! _Dozens_!" His eyes grew wide. "Not that there's anything wrong with, you know, being _that _way! It's just that we're – _not_!"

Dick gave an artificial smile. "Wally, you can shut up now." He wondered if she really believed that, because, if she did, he was definitely doing something wrong.

Devon's face was horrified, and she seemed to search for a safe topic. "Hey – uh. Cute dog. Can I – can I pet him?"

"Yeah. Sure." Wally gratefully changed the subject. "He's a big goof, but he won't bite."

Dick turned his head towards Wally and spoke in a low voice so that Devon couldn't hear. "Sounds like someone else I know."

Devon squatted down next to Brucely and scratched him behind the ears. "Aren't you a precious pup? Yes, you are." She made kissing noises at him, and the dog rewarded her with several licks to her face. She laughed and hugged him, and stood up.

She wiped her face on her sleeve, and smiled at Dick. "It was good to see you, Dick. Really."

He nodded, but his jaw was set. "Yeah. You, too." He flexed both his elbows outward while his hands were still in his pockets. "Have a good night."

"Yeah, you, too." She repeated his words back to him. "Good to see you, too, Wally."

"Yeah. Nice to see you." Wally pointed impotently in the direction of home. "We should – get back."

They turned, but, within a few steps, Devon called out to them. "Dick!"

He turned back to look at her.

"Can I – uh, talk to you a second?" She sounded wary.

He shrugged. "Sure."

"I'll see you inside, man." Wally punched him lightly on the arm, and, with a quick wave to Devon, turned towards home.

Dick walked back to Devon and stopped so close that he could have leaned out and kissed her. He thought that she would move back, but she stood her ground.

She was so beautiful, face unsure, biting her lip. He wanted to grab her shoulders, drag her against him and kiss her until they both gasped for breath.

"I –" She started to speak, but arrested her words, sighed, and started again. "I'm glad I saw you."

He nodded, subduing his desires. "Yeah, me, too."

"I'm really sorry that –"

Dick did not want to start this again. "Yeah. I know. It's okay."

"No. It's not. It's _really _not. I – feel like I hurt you," pain crossed over her features, "and I didn't mean to. I didn't _want_ to. My life is just so crazy right now –"

He held up a hand. "No. It's okay. Really." He gave a smile, dazzling, and she blinked. "I'll survive."

She took a deep breath, and gave a rueful smile. "Okay." She looked past Dick to make certain Wally had gone. "I _am_ really – glad that I saw you. I don't want it to be – awkward between us whenever I see you. Whenever we see each other – which," her eyes opened wide, "seems to be strangely _a lot_ recently. Weird, since I don't think I ever saw you before a week or so ago." He was silent, knowing that most of the times they had encountered each other had been _his_ machinations. "Although maybe we did and just didn't notice each other."

Dick gave a smile that lifted only half his mouth. "I think I would have noticed you."

She lifted a hand to her cheek, as if to cover a blush. "Me, too."

Dick lifted a hand in a wave. "Well, have a good night, Devon."

"Yeah, you, too."

He turned back towards Wally's apartment, feeling strangely hollow inside.

**Gotham City**

**Earlier That Day**

* * *

Devon checked the clock on her phone as she walked along the sidewalk in front of the married student housing. It was 7:15 PM, and already dark. It was also cold, and she zipped her jacket up. Her last class had gone over by a few minutes, and she was running later than she had intended. She wanted to be at the bus stop no later than 8:30 for the last bus of the night. If she missed it, it would be a cold, long, dangerous walk home through areas best traversed in daylight.

She spotted someone coming towards her walking a dog – and it was easy, in the glow of the streetlights, to recognize that distinctive red head. However, he wasn't alone, and Devon squinted, trying to make out the person with him. He seemed vaguely familiar, as well, and within a few steps, she recognized him.

She hesitated a moment, breaking her gait.

"_Shit_."

Dick Grayson walked next to Wally, talking to him with an ease born of familiarity, and Devon cursed more within her head, even while her brain raced to connect the two. She ran through everything she knew about the two of them, and came with nothing. Why were they together? They obviously knew each other – but how? Through classes? But Wally was a grad student and Dick was only a junior, and she knew that Wally had graduated from Stanford, so that link was tenuous. Maybe through mutual friends?

_It could be any of a million reasons, Devon, and unless you want to text Larry and get in touch with **God knows who**, then forget it._

She considered, for a fraction of a second, turning around and pretending she hadn't seen them, but decided against it; Dick had spotted her, and, drawing in a deep breath, she continued towards them, plastering a smile on her face and hoping that they did not notice her uneasiness.

"Hey – uh, hi, Wally. And – Dick." Devon's voice was surprised – which was a true reaction; she certainly had not expected them to be together.. She stopped when she came abreast of them, under a street lamp, an uncertain smile on her face.

She noticed Dick and Wally exchanging looks, and she wondered if they had been talking about her

"Hey, Devon." Dick smiled tentatively, and Wally mumbled a greeting.

"I – didn't know you two knew each other." She _really _hoped her smile looked genuine.

"Yeah." Dick nodded, and looked at his feet. "We – do."

Her smile grew and she tried an encouraging head nod, hoping that he would explain more, although it was for naught. "Uh. Wow. How do you know..." she looked away, too, for a moment. "How're you doing?" She changed her question in mid-sentence, and looked at Dick.

He nodded. "Okay. You know. Same. How do you know – Wally?"

"Oh, well – he was a T.A. in one of my classes last semester..." That, too, was true.

"Chem." Wally interjected.

"Oh." Dick looked at him briefly. "Okay. Small world." He indicated the street where they stood. "What brings you here to housing?"

"What?" She was unprepared for the question, continuing to try to figure out the connection between the two men. "Oh. Study group. You know." Her standard answer.

"Science?" Dick asked.

"History." She shifted from one foot to the other.

"Oh. On your way to or from?"

"From. Going home now." That much was true.

"Oh. Well." Dick shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, patently uncomfortable.

A thought came to her head for a split second, but was dismissed just as quickly. It gave her, however, a way to throw Dick and Wally off-balance, which might give her some details as to their relationship. She pointed at the two of them suddenly. "You guys – are you a _couple_? Because, I mean, it's cool and all if you are –"

She knew, of course, that was not the case – besides Dick's _very _obvious attraction to her, she knew, from everything that she learned about Wally, that he was straight. Not that they _couldn't _both be bisexual, but she didn't think so.

Wally made a strangled noise and interrupted her. "What?! No! No! Not at all! Did you think?!" He, too, pointed at Dick, and suddenly laughed, a little hysterically. "What? Us? No! I have a girlfriend! Remember? I told you! And Dick – he's had _tons _ of girlfriends! _Dozens_!" His eyes grew wide. "Not that there's anything wrong with, you know, _that_! It's just that we're – _not_!"

Dick's eyes narrowed, and he gave Devon an uncomfortable smile. "Wally, you can shut up now."

Devon's assumed a suitably horrified face. "Hey – uh." She looked at the pit bull sitting patiently at Wally's side. "Cute dog. Can I – can I pet him?"

"Yeah. Sure." Wally's voice was grateful. "He's a big goof, but he won't bite."

Dick turned his head towards Wally as Devon squatted next to the dog, scratching him behind the ears. "Aren't you a precious pup? Yes, you are." She made kissing noises at him, and the dog rewarded her with several licks to her face. She laughed and hugged him, and stood up.

She wiped her face on her sleeve, and smiled at Dick. "It was good to see you, Dick. Really." It was true.

He nodded, but he seemed angry. "Yeah. You, too." He flexed both his elbows while his hands were still in his pockets. "Have a good night."

"Yeah, you, too." She repeated his words back to him. "Good to see you, too, Wally."

"Yeah. Nice to see you." Wally pointed impotently in the other direction. "We should – get back."

They turned, and began to walk away, but Devon did not want him to go yet. She wanted to talk to him again, bathe in the admiration that she saw in his eyes. She called out to them. "Dick!"

He turned back to look at her.

"Can I – uh, talk to you a second?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

"I'll see you inside, man." Wally punched him lightly on the arm, and, with a quick wave to Devon, walked off in the direction from which he had come.

Dick walked back to Devon and stopped so close that she realized that either one of them could lean out and kiss the other.

He looked so gorgeous, standing there, so near her, that her hands itched to reach out and touch him. Her body yearned to fall into him.

"I –" She started to speak, but arrested her words, sighed, and started again. "I'm glad I saw you."

He nodded. "Yeah, me, too."

"I'm really sorry that –"

Dick cut her off. "Yeah. I know. It's okay."

She became frustrated. "No. It's not. It's _really _not. I – feel like I hurt you," true emotion crossed over her features, "and I didn't mean to. I didn't _want_ to. My life is just so crazy right now –"

_Understatement, Devon_!

He held up a hand. "No. It's okay. Really." He gave a smile, dazzling, and she blinked. "I'll survive."

She took a deep breath, and gave a rueful smile. "Okay." She looked past Dick to make certain Wally had gone. "I _am_ really – happy that I saw you today because – I don't want it to be – awkward between us whenever I see you. Whenever we see each other – which," her eyes opened wide, "seems to be strangely _a lot_ recently. Weird, since I don't think I ever saw you before a week or so ago." He was silent. "Although maybe we did and just didn't notice each other."

Dick gave a smile that lifted only half his mouth. "I think I would have noticed you."

She lifted a hand to her reddened cheek, ridiculously pleased at his compliment. "Me, too."

Dick lifted a hand in a wave. "Well, have a good night, Devon."

Her face darkened for a moment, then cleared. "Yeah, you, too."

She watched him walk away, an emptiness within her.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. I knew that I wanted to include Artemis and Wally's dog in this scene, and I was SO LUCKY that, on the very day that I was writing this chapter, I found out the dog's name from Greg Weisman on his "Ask Greg" site. It was, actually, the name that I had chosen to give the dog anyway, Brucely, since that is the name of the dog upon which the animated dog is based (the animator has a pit bull named Brucely). So, serendipity all around!

Please review and give this author something to treasure! : )


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **I got a review saying that showing the same scene from both perspectives is repetitive, and I understand. I have had trouble figuring out how to give the perspective of both people at the same time; it has seemed confusing to me to do it within the same scene - especially since Dick and Devon each have their own agendas, and I think it's important that I reveal each individual's thought process. Some readers, however, have said they like it. Dilemma! Dilemma! However, I will try to mix it up - although this chapter features the same scene twice, with a "he said/she said" kind of thing**. **I hope you like it anyway!

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**Several Nights Later**

Dick unlocked the door to his apartment, whistling a low tune, bags of groceries in each hand. He flung them onto the counter, and, continuing to whistle, began to unload them.

"I calculate that I could have killed you five different ways since you entered."

It was a testament to Dick's years of training that he did not drop the eggs. Instead, his unsteady hand placed them on the first shelf in the refrigerator, and he turned to his youngest brother, who stood before him, his face truculent and his arms folded across his chest. He was dressed in civilian clothes consisting of a gray hooded sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers.

"Hello, Damian." He opened a low cabinet for his corn flakes, Fruit Loops, and Honey Nut O's.

"Would you like to know how I might have killed you?"

Dick's eyes flickered. "You wouldn't have, because I knew you were here." A little lie was in order.

The boy rolled his eyes. "You're a bad liar, Grayson. I saw how your hand was shaking, and how your spine seized. You were startled."

Dick had to smile, had to ruffle his hair. Damian grabbed Dick's wrist with his own hand, and lifted it deliberately off his head.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but why are you here?" He ripped open a bag of wavy potato chips and held it out. "Chip?"

"Of course not. Potato chips and other fried potato products contain acrylamide, a known carcinogen. I have no wish to die a premature death from _chips_. If you do not care about your long-term health, that is your concern."

Dick looked at the chips for a moment, then shrugged and pulled out a handful. "Damian, I swing from buildings on a tiny cord and regularly get shot. I'm not worrying about potato chip cancer."

Damian shrugged. "Your funeral."

Dick walked past him into the living room, kicked off his shoes, and sat on the sofa, chip bag still in hand. "So tell me, little bat, why you're here."

"Don't call me that." Damian followed and threw himself into an armchair.

Dick looked on his coffee table. And under it. And stuck a hand down the cushion of the sofa. "Where's my remote?" He asked, around a mouthful of chips.

"Number four." Damian put his feet up on the coffee table.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Killing you with your own remote control was way number four of the five ways to kill you."

"Ah. Good to know. Where is it?"

Damian produced it from his sweatshirt pocket and reluctantly handed it to his brother.

"Want to watch something?" Dick turned the set on.

"Are executions televised?"

Dick gave him a wide-eyed look. "Not that I know of."

"Not even on demand?"

"I don't think so."

He shrugged. "Then I don't care."

Dick flipped through several channels. "Funniest Videos?"

"Then I _will_ have to kill you."

Dick left it on, and they spent ten minutes watching crotch shots, hits to the head, and falls down stairs.

"I was under the impression that babies and small animals made up the majority of the clips. I have seen several things that obviously resulted in great bodily injury." Damian pointed out.

"So you approve?"

"The moment I see a video of a baby's first steps, I will leave the room."

"Understood."

Despite Damian's threat, videos of first steps and gurgling babies came and went, and he remained.

Dick was growing curious about his younger brother's presence. Damian was always welcome, of course, but he rarely came by, choosing to spend his time in the cave or at the sprawling Wayne Estate.

Dick finished the chips, and wiped his hands on his jeans. "Chocolate milk?"

"Yes."

Dick smiled, and got up to fetch it. He poured a large glass, and brought it back, along with several chocolate chip cookies. Damian accepted them both silently.

"Aren't you out a little late, Damian?"

He swallowed half a cookie. "Don't be ludicrous. I am often out much later than this."

"With Bruce." Dick reminded him gently.

"I don't need his _permission_ to go out." He slurped noisily from his glass.

"That's why you're here."

"He treats me like a child."

"You _are_ a child."

He was silent for a long time. "I've run away." He admitted finally.

Dick, despite himself, smiled. "And you came here."

"Don't flatter yourself into thinking that I am here because I _like_ you," Damian sneered.

"Then why _are _you here?"

Damian shrugged. "You have a large television and several gaming consoles."

Dick chuckled. "Yes, I do." He got up and patted Damian's leg. "We'll make up the sofa for you."

"I should take the bedroom."

"Why is that?"

"_I_ am royalty."

Dick laughed at that. "Are you? I think this is the first that I have heard _that_." He pulled the cushions off the couch and slapped Damian with them. "Unless you mean that you are a _royal_ pain in the ass."

"You'll pay for that, Grayson!" Damian jumped up, snatched the cushion from his brother's hands, and whacked him over the head.

Dick staggered back with a feigned injury, but when Damian attempted to hit him again, he caught the edge of the cushion, and twisted it away. "And _you'll_ sleep on the sofa."

They continued the cushion fight for several minutes, until Dick called a time out, and Damian fell on the floor, rolling with laughter, in spite of his self-importance.

Dick went to his bedroom to grab a bed pillow for the boy. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and turned it on. He opened a new text message box and began to type.

_Damian here and safe. Will talk to you tomorrow._

A few seconds, and there was a response.

_**Thank you, Dick. I hope all is well.**_

_We're having fun._

Dick could imagine Bruce's brows shooting up into his hairline, and he chuckled.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Day**

Dick took Damian back to Wayne Manor the next morning, before his first class at Gotham University. Damian had insisted that he didn't need to be driven home, "like a baby," but Dick was adamant.

Alfred was, of course, pleased to see them both, and took Damian off to feed the child's seemingly limitless appetite. Dick went in search of his father, finding him, finally, in the BatCave, tinkering with the Batmobile.

"Hello, Dick. Thanks for bringing Damian home."

"How did you know?"

He gave his son a dry look, and pointed at the computer. "We do have sensors and cameras at the front door, Dick."

"Yeah. Right."

Bruce frowned at him. "You seem a bit – off lately. What's on your mind?"

It was Dick's turn to give Bruce a dry look. "Besides your little _bombshell_? Does there have to be anything else?"

"There doesn't _have _to be. That was enough food for thought, I assume."

"Yes, it was." Dick looked pensive.

"But there _is _something else, isn't there?"

Dick was silent for a moment, and he leaned against the car, his hands in his pockets. "Yeah."

"Roy and Jade?"

"How did you know..." His brow furrowed, then he shook his head. "Never mind. Nothing is secret from you."

"Not true. I don't know what else is bothering you, for example."

"You should ask what's bothering _Damian_."

"I _know_ what's bothering Damian. And now I know that _you_ don't want to talk about whatever is bothering you."

"See? Nothing's secret."

Bruce sighed. "You don't have to tell me."

"You'll just keep digging until you discover it for yourself?"

"Probably."

Dick stared at Bruce for a long while, as the older man reloaded the Batmobile's net shooter, and realized that Bruce really _would_ dig until he discovered the truth. "It's a girl."

"The one you were investigating?"

Dick rolled his eyes. Bruce remembered _everything_. "Yes."

His father continued to work, silently, waiting for Dick to be more forthcoming.

"She's a student at Gotham U."

"Is that where you met her?"

"Yes and no."

"You're being mysterious."

"I first saw her there, but I _met _her at her job. She's a waitress at a diner."

"Ah."

"_Ah_? _Ah_ what?"

A small smile curved Bruce's lips. "She's hardworking."

"Yes. But what's the _ah _for?"

Bruce shrugged, a very un-Bruce thing to do.

"You're going to say that she's poor."

"Is she?"

"Yes. But that has nothing to do with – anything."

"I didn't say that it did. _You_ are the one who brought it up."

Dick flushed. "You think that she's only interested in me because I'm heir to Wayne Enterprises."

"Did you tell her that you are?"

"No."

"Then how would she know?"

"She doesn't!" He was getting defensive, although he didn't know why.

"So then there is no problem. She isn't interested in you for your money."

"She's_ not_ interested in me at all!" Dick said hotly, as if that would restore Devon in Bruce's eyes, even though, he acknowledged, Bruce had said _nothing _against her.

Bruce's brows shot up. "So that's the problem. You want her but she doesn't want you."

Dick's face darkened, and he looked away, crossing his arms petulantly.

"Is that why you're interested? Because you can't have her?"

"No. I'm interested because she's beautiful and she's smart, and she's..." He shook his head. "I can't get her out of my mind."

"You need to."

Dick burst off of the Batmobile. "First you tell me you want me to find a nice girl, and now you tell me to get her out of my mind!"

"I'm telling you that because _that_ – distraction can get you killed."

"I know. I _know_. A thousand times!"

"Then _do it_."

Dick was silent, and Bruce nodded. "You know I'm right. Put her out of your head, or sleep with her – I don't care which. Just _resolve_ it."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

Devon shoved the clothes into the washer, threw in soap, and set the dial. As the water started to fill the tub, she looked down at herself. These pajama bottoms were – ripe. She slid them off and tossed them in, and watched as the agitator drew them down into the water. She padded from the laundry room on the bottom floor of her apartment, clad now only in a t-shirt and panties, and headed for the stairs back to her room.

She wanted to do a little studying before going to sleep, but, just then, her stomach growled, and she decided to make a stop in the kitchen. She walked to the refrigerator and opened the door. Leftover spaghetti. No. A cheese stick. Okay. She grabbed that and went to a cabinet for some crackers.

She thought she heard a noise from below, and frowned. It sounded like – glass breaking? She closed the cabinet door quietly, grabbed her grandmother's heavy cast iron skillet, and switched off the light. In the dark, she continued to listen, and walked towards the stairs that led to the restaurant below. She definitely heard something this time – a tinkling of glass.

Without thinking of the danger, her heart beating painfully in her chest, she slid open the door and walked swiftly down the stairs, the skillet held up by her head like a baseball bat. At the bottom of the stairs she could see moonlight through the window in the hall, along with the low light that was always on in the diner's kitchen, and she went towards it cautiously. As she passed the window, she felt a sharp, severe pain in her foot, and looked down. She had stepped on broken glass.

The window was broken. Someone had broken in.

Memories of her conversation with George, the cook, about the recent robbery at another diner, rushed through her head, even as she leaned against the wall and pulled the glass from her foot. Her foot throbbed painfully, but she put it out of her mind, and limped towards the kitchen.

She had no idea what she was going to do, but she was going to do it.

The weak glow of the light above the desk in the kitchen illuminated the room enough to tell that there was someone standing at the desk. The man's back was to Devon as he stood trying to pry open the desk's only locked drawer with a knife. He wore a ski mask and dark clothes, and a gun lay next to him on the cluttered desk surface.

Devon tightened her hands on the skillet and approached the man. When she got near enough, she pulled the pan back and hit the man on the back of the head with all of her strength. There was a sickening crunch of bone against metal, the knife slipped from his hand, and he slumped over, seemingly unconscious.

She stared at him for a long moment, then grabbed the back of his jacket, pulled him from the desk, and allowed him to fall to the floor, where he lay sprawled on the linoleum.

Dick landed on the roof of the building nearest the back of the diner and peered over the edge. He could see lights on the two upper floors, and he wondered again at his wisdom in coming here. Devon had made it clear, _twice_, that she couldn't see him, so why was he here again, stalking her like a pervert?

_Put her out of your head, or sleep with her_. Bruce's words came back to him, and he frowned. He would accomplish neither by just spying on her – and, since it was apparent that she was not interested in sleeping with him, he should probably be trying to figure out how to get her out of his mind. But, it was as if it were a compulsion in him. He found himself drawn to her, again and again, and it was beyond his abilities to break the thrall that she had over him. But _thrall_ was not the right word – it was not the mindless subjugation that Queen Bee exercised over men; it was the _fascination_ that he had with Devon – a _desire_ to see her, to be with her, and he _knew_ it was wrong to spy on her like this, but he could not seem to help himself.

He was pulled, all of a sudden, from his thoughts by the sound of breaking glass. He squinted down at the ground, but it was too dark to make out anything in the shadows. He pulled night-vision goggles from his utility belt, and put them on. He thought he saw movement, and then, he was certain that he did – there was a figure going through a broken window at the back of the diner. Someone was breaking in. His heart jumped, and he pulled the goggles off his eyes.

He saw the light on the second floor go out, and he froze. Was someone awake – did someone else hear the glass breaking? Was someone going to investigate – was it _Devon_?

His training kicked in and he swung down onto the ground, leaving the wire in place, which he normally never did. He investigated the area around the building, trying to make certain that the intruder was alone. It would do no good to go in after the burglar simply to be jumped by an accomplice.

Satisfied that the intruder was indeed alone, Dick slid through the broken window silently, and landed amongst shards of glass. It was dark, and he needed the goggles to see clearly. He saw a dark spot on the floor and bent down – blood. He looked up sharply when he heard a loud thwack and the sound of a falling body, and he shot towards the sound.

The silhouette of a man appeared in the doorway of the diner's kitchen, and, startled, Devon looked up at him, still brandishing the skillet in one hand. Then, realizing the danger she was in, she fumbled for the burglar's gun and pointed it at him shakily, although, in that split second, she wondered why she felt nervous – she knew how to use a gun, after all.

He raised his hands. "You know how to use that thing?" His words echoed her thoughts.

"I'll figure it out." Her voice was stronger than she felt.

He put his hands up higher. "It's okay." He stepped slowly into the light, and pointed at an insignia of a bird on his chest. "I'm a good guy."

"A good guy doesn't break and enter." She pointed out, the gun still aimed at him.

"I was only breaking and entering to catch the guy who was breaking and entering."

"Sure you were." She did not believe him. "Who are you, then?"

"Nightwing."

"Nightwing. Never heard of you."

"Really?" He sounded disappointed. "Never?"

She shook her head.

"Ever heard of Batman and Robin?"

"Of course. Everybody's heard of _them_." Her grip on the gun tightened.

"Well, I used to be Robin."

"Yeah, and I used to be the Tooth Fairy."

"Look. I'll prove it to you." He slowly brought his hand over to touch his ear. After a few seconds, he smiled. "This is Nightwing. I'm at the scene of a break in. Can you send a car to the location I transmit? And could you please call the phone here to persuade this nice young woman," he looked at Devon with a bright smile, which disarmed her for a moment, "that I am one of the good guys?" He touched his watch and seemed to press a few buttons, and a few seconds later, the phone on the wall began to ring.

Devon and Nightwing both looked at it, she warily, and he with a triumphant nod.

Still pointing the gun at him, she sidled over and picked up the phone. "H – hello?"

"This is Emergency Services. Nightwing has reported that there has been a break-in at this address. Is that true?"

"Y – yes." She nodded, even though the person on the other end could not see her. Her gaze slid to the superhero, whose arms had lowered.

"A car is on its way. Did Nightwing put the suspect in custody?"

"N – no. I – I did."

"Oh." There was surprise in the woman's voice on the other end of the line. "Is there anyone injured?"

"N – no." Devon hated how shaky and unsure she sounded. "Oh, wait. I hit the burglar on the head. He's unconscious."

"We'll send EMT's."

"Thank you."

"Miss, you sound scared."

"I – I am."

"You don't need to be. Nightwing really _is_ one of the good guys."

"Oh, okay. Thank you."

"Would you like me to stay on the line with you?"

She shook her head. "No. No. I'm fine. Thank you." She hung up the phone and looked at Nightwing, who now stood with his hands on his hips.

"You can put the gun down now." He sounded smug.

"Oh, right." She lowered the weapon, which was still pointed at him, and laid it on the counter. He walked over, picked it up, emptied the chambers, and laid it back down.

She braced herself with a hand on the counter, trying to calm her racing pulse.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Just never been the victim – of a violent crime, I guess."

He gave her a small smile. "It does take some getting used to." He bent over the unconscious man and pulled off the ski mask. He seemed to be in his early forties, with brown hair, receding. "Recognize him?"

She shook her head silently.

Nightwing pulled out a couple of zip tie handcuffs from his utility belt and secured the burglar's wrists and ankles, while she watched him with interest. He was bent over the unconscious man, and she had to note, even in her shaken state, that he had a spectacular rear end.

_Whoa, Devon_! _You were just checking out a superhero's butt_! She averted her eyes. "So, you, uh, seem like you do this often."

He straightened. "More than I'd like."

"Crime never sleeps?"

He gave a lopsided smile. "Guess not." He indicated the man on the floor. "You didn't need me, though. You took him out on your own."

"Yeah. I'm my own hero."

"That's a good thing. I can't be everywhere at once."

"No." She shook her head.

He picked up her weapon and handed it back to her. "You're pretty handy with a frying pan."

She noted that, beneath the snug armor, he seemed very muscular. "It's a skillet."

"What?"

"It's not a frying pan. It's a skillet. There's a difference."

"Oh. Learn something new everyday."

"Yeah." She looked at it. "Guess it's going to need washing."

"Looks like." He pointed at the floor. "I followed a trail of blood from the window. Is it yours?"

She looked down at the bloody footprints that she had left. "Oh. Yeah. That's – me." She laid her ankle across her knee and looked at the sole of her foot. There was a long gash there, with a line of fresh blood and blood in the whorls of her foot pads. "I cut my foot on the glass."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "But, adrenaline. You know."

"Adrenaline's a great painkiller. But you should – take care of that."

She lowered her leg and started to limp over to a cabinet. "There's a first aid kit under here." She opened up a low cabinet and tried to squat down on only one foot to search through it.

She fished through the items on the shelves until she found the first-aid kit, pulled it out, and stood. She hopped back over to the desk, and sat on the chair there.

She again crossed her ankle on her thigh and began dabbing at the cut with a cotton ball and peroxide from the kit. She fumbled with a large bandage pack, attempting to open it, but her hands, shaking now, would not cooperate. With a sigh, he walked over to her.

"Here, let me."

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

"You can barely hold it. You'll miss the cut entirely."

She nodded as she gave it up, and he stripped his gloves off and got on his knees before her.

He examined the wound, cradling her foot in his bare hands. "The wound's not as large as a I thought."

She blushed at the feel of his skin against hers. He had nice hands. Large, with long, tapered fingers, well-groomed. "Small mercies."

He chuckled. "You sound like my brother."

She smiled at him tentatively, and he returned the smile. She blinked rapidly – there was something oddly _familiar _about him, but she could not place it.

They heard police sirens in the distance, and both looked towards the windows. He turned back to her. "Maybe you should put some more –" he pointed at her head and then dragged his finger down to encompass her body, "clothes on."

She looked down at herself and blushed. In the chaos, she had forgotten how _undressed _she was. With a squeal, she took off up the stairs, ignoring her injury.

She also had to check on her grandmother, who was probably awakened by the sirens. Devon went to her grandmother's door and eased it open. As she expected, the old woman was sitting up in her bed. Their dog, Cuddles, a black Labrador mix, was standing at the open window, whining.

"Grandma?"

"Devon? What is it? Is it Larry?"

"What? No! It's not _Uncle Larry_. Someone – someone tried to break in."

"What?" She started to get up. "Is everything all right?"

Devon rushed forward. "Yes. Everything's fine. Stay here. The police are on their way."

The old woman looked at her in the dark, then nodded slowly.

"If the police need you, I'll come get you. Okay?" Devon tucked the covers around the older woman.

"Okay. Be careful."

Devon kissed her on the cheek. "I will. Keep Cuddles here with you."

"He never leaves me."

"Good." She slipped out of the door again and rushed to her room to put on jeans and a bra. She blushed again when she thought of Nightwing seeing her mostly unclothed. She knew that was not the thing that should worry her most, but, for some reason, it did. She should worry about the fact that Nightwing was here at all. It was – odd. She walked over to the false floorboard by her window, and pushed on it experimentally with her foot. She was relieved that it made no noise, and she knew that it would only be discovered if someone was on hands and knees searching for it.

She ran back down the stairs, careful to land on her heel rather than the ball of her foot, and back to the kitchen to find Nightwing and the police, conversing, and the burglar awake, sitting against the cabinets, with two emergency medical technicians speaking with him.

They all looked at her when she entered.

"Miss," one of the police officers, a man who appeared to be in his late forties, began. "Nightwing was briefing us, but he doesn't know the whole story. Would you mind going over it, in detail?"

She nodded and relayed the events of the night, while the officer wrote the details in a small notepad. When she was done, and they started to take the man out of the diner, she stepped back, away from the burglar, right into Nightwing. He lifted his hands to her upper arms to steady her, but she pulled away. She looked at his mask, where his eyes were hidden, and a current of awareness passed between them. She turned away quickly.

Nightwing cleared his throat. "Um, Miss – I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Oh." She blushed. "Wakeman."

"Well, Miss Wakeman. It seems that you're in good hands, so I'll be going."

She smiled at him shyly. "Thank you, for – your help."

He gave her a blinding smile. "You're very welcome." He said his good-byes to the police, and was gone. She followed him with her eyes until one of the officers cleared his throat.

"Miss, may we check the rest of the premises?"

She nodded. "Yes, please. It would – make me feel better. My grandmother is upstairs. I'll go up with you to see her. She might be scared otherwise." She led them upstairs, and took them first to her grandmother's room, and then they checked the rest of the apartment. They also checked the entire diner, and even helped her to board up the window that the burglar had broken.

When the police had finally gone, Devon sank down on the one chair in the kitchen, her legs suddenly turned to jelly. She drew in a deep breath, and lifted a shaky hand to her forehead.

_Come on, Devon_, she thought to herself. _You can do this. This was **not**__a big deal. You took care of yourself, like you always have. Just keep your head. It will be okay. _She gave a sigh, and stood up. _No weakness, Devon. No weakness._

_None at all._

* * *

Nightwing stopped in the doorway of the diner's kitchen, startling Devon, who looked up at him, still brandishing the skillet in one hand. Then, apparently thinking he meant her harm, she fumbled for the burglar's gun and pointed it at him shakily.

He raised his hands, not wanting her to shoot him. "You know how to use that thing?" He pitched his voice lower so that she did not recognize it.

"I'll figure it out." She lifted her chin.

He put his hands up higher. "It's okay." He stepped slowly into the light, and pointed at the insignia on his chest. "I'm a good guy."

"A good guy doesn't break and enter." She pointed out, the gun still aimed at him.

"I was only breaking and entering to catch the guy who was breaking and entering." He was trying not to notice that she was dressed only in a snug t-shirt and panties, barefoot, with her hair down around her shoulders.

"Sure you were." She clearly did not believe him. "Who are you, then?"

"Nightwing."

"Nightwing. Never heard of you."

"Really?" He was disappointed. "Never?"

She shook her head.

"Ever heard of Batman and Robin?"

"Of course. Everybody's heard of _them_."

"Well, I used to be Robin."

"Yeah, and I used to be the Tooth Fairy."

"Look. I'll prove it to you." He touched the comm in his ear and pressed the button that would connect him with 911.

"911. What is your emergency?" A voice crackled in his ear.

He smiled. "This is Nightwing. I'm at the scene of a break in. Can you send a car to the location I transmit? And could you please call the phone here to persuade this nice young woman," he looked at Devon with a bright smile, "that I am one of the good guys?"

He touched a few buttons on his watch, and his location was instantly transmitted to the police.

"I will do that." The voice assured him, and, indeed, in a few seconds, the phone on the wall began to ring.

He tried not to look smug.

Devon and he both looked at it, she warily, and he with a triumphant nod.

Still pointing the gun at him, she sidled over and picked up the phone. "H – hello?"

Dick lowered his arms, and watched as a mixture of emotions ran over her features as she listened to the person on the other end of the phone. She nodded, and her gaze slid to Nightwing.

"N – no. I – I did." She responded to a question he could not hear. "N – no." She blushed. "Oh, wait. I hit the burglar on the head. He's unconscious." The operator must have said something Devon was glad to hear. "Thank you," she said, followed by, "I – I am."

During the conversation, Dick was watching her; she had one hand still gripped around the gun and the other held the telephone receiver. She looked at him again, and he wondered what the operator was saying. "Oh, okay. Thank you."

She shook her head again. "No. No. I'm fine. Thank you." She hung up the phone slowly, and looked at Nightwing, who now stood with his hands on his hips.

"You can put the gun down now." His voice was confident.

"Oh, right." She lowered the weapon, which was still pointed at him, and laid it on the counter. He walked over, picked it up, emptied the chambers, and laid it back down.

She braced herself with a hand on the counter, and he ran his eyes over her. She seemed shaky, and she was definitely pale.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concerned that she might faint.

"Yeah. Yeah. Just never been the victim – of a violent crime, I guess."

He gave her a small smile. "It does take some getting used to." He bent over the unconscious man and pulled off the ski mask. He seemed to be in his early forties, with brown hair, receding. "Recognize him?"

She shook her head silently.

He pulled some zip tie handcuffs from his utility belt and secured the burglar's wrists and ankles

"So, you, uh, seem like you do this often." Her voice was unsteady.

He straightened. "More than I'd like."

"Crime never sleeps?"

He gave a lopsided smile. "Guess not." He indicated the man on the floor. "You didn't need me, though. You took him out on your own."

"Yeah. I'm my own hero."

"That's a good thing. I can't be everywhere at once."

"No." She shook her head.

He picked up her weapon and handed it back to her. "You're pretty handy with a frying pan."

"It's a skillet."

"What?"

"It's not a frying pan. It's a skillet. There's a difference."

"Oh. Learn something new everyday."

"Yeah." She looked at it. "Guess it's going to need washing."

"Looks like." He pointed at the floor. "I followed a trail of blood from the window. Is it yours?"

She looked down at the bloody footprints that she had left. "Oh. Yeah. That's – me." She laid her ankle across her knee and looked at the sole of her foot. There was a long gash there, with a line of fresh blood and blood in the whorls of her foot pads. "I cut my foot on the glass."

"Doesn't it hurt?" He tried to ignore how that movement caused her thigh to flex.

"Yeah." She nodded. "But, adrenaline. You know."

"Adrenaline's a great painkiller. But you should – take care of that."

She lowered her leg and started to limp over to a cabinet. "There's a first aid kit under here." She opened up a low cabinet and tried to squat down on only one foot to search through it. She fished through the items on the shelves until she found the first-aid kit, pulled it out, and stood. She hopped back over to the desk, and sat on the chair there.

She again crossed her ankle on her thigh and began dabbing at the cut with a cotton ball and peroxide from the kit.

Dick watched as she worked, trying not to notice that she really wasn't wearing much at all, and, with the way she was sitting, he could see a lot of what wasn't covered. He wondered if she realized how she looked and what she was doing to him, but decided, immediately, that she was functioning in a kind of survivor's stupor – going through the motions with little regard to her surroundings or situation. It was something he had seen before – something he had done before. It was like being on auto-pilot. And he felt like an ass for looking – for taking advantage. But, for the life of him, he could not look away.

She fumbled with a large bandage pack, attempting to open it, but her hands, shaking now, would not cooperate. With a sigh, he walked over to her, hoping she wouldn't notice the erection he was sporting.

"Here, let me."

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

"You can barely hold it. You'll miss the cut entirely."

She nodded as she gave it up, and he stripped his gloves off and got on his knees before her.

He examined the wound, cradling her foot in his bare hands. "The wound's not as large as a I thought."

She blushed. "Small mercies."

He chuckled. "You sound like my brother." _Crap, Nightwing_! _Shut up! No details! _

She smiled at him tentatively, and his heart leapt into his throat. Sitting there, looking so vulnerable, he was overcome with a sudden urge to – _protect _her. To draw her into his arms and kiss her tenderly, and tell her that everything would be all right.

Which, of course, was stupid, because it was sexist, and she _obviously_ could take care of herself. She didn't need him for that.

_Maybe she needs you for something else_, his wicked inner voice said, but he pushed it away, and concentrated on putting the bandage on straight.

They heard police sirens in the distance, and both looked towards the windows. He turned back to her. "Maybe you should put some more –" he pointed at her head and then dragged his finger down to encompass her body, "clothes on."

She looked down at herself and blushed. With a squeal, she took off up the stairs.

Dick watched as she bounded away, unable to take his gaze off her nearly-naked rear end as it bounced away. He shut his eyes and groaned. He wanted her so much. He could see himself peeling the t-shirt off of her body and sliding the panties over her hips, and laying her down to make love to her for hours.

He shook his head. He needed to distract himself, so he headed outside to wait for the police.

They pulled up, sirens wailing, followed by an emergency medical vehicle, just as Dick emerged out onto the sidewalk.

An officer that he recognized got out of the car, followed by his partner.

The first officer, a man in his late forties, nodded at Dick. "Nightwing."

"Officer." He extended his hand, which the man took. "The perpetrator – the _alleged _ perpetrator is inside. I secured him. There is a young woman who subdued him – "

"How did she subdue him?" The officer asked.

"Hit him in the head with a _skillet_."

The emergency medical technicians, hearing that, started around the building.

"A skillet?" The policeman drew Dick's attention back to him.

"You know, it's like a frying pan."

The man blinked. "First time I've ever heard of a skillet being used in self-defense."

Nightwing smiled. "Me, too. I can show you where the man broke in." He started walking around the building, and the officers followed.

They stopped to examine the broken window, and one of the cops noticed Nightwing's abandoned cord hanging near the ground.

"So how is it, Nightwing," he asked, looking up at the dangling cord, "that you were here to witness this crime?"

Dick's face reddened slightly, and he was glad, in the near darkness, that it could not be seen. He shrugged. "Just passing by."

The man nodded. "Convenient."

"Yes. It was." Nightwing smiled. "You want to see the guy?"

The man was already awake when they came into the kitchen, with the EMT's around him. He was in a sitting position, and Nightwing stood by, arms folded, as the older policeman started to ask him questions.

The second officer began questioning Dick.

"Can you please tell me everything that happened, in relation to this incident?"

Nightwing told the man what he knew, and, as he was finishing, Devon returned, wearing jeans. He could still see, however, in his mind, how she had looked in only panties, and hoped that he would see her like that again, soon. He had already decided that putting her out of his mind was impossible, so he was determined to pursue her – he did not know how, but he was resolved. She would be his – and nothing was going to stop him.

He was glad his eyes were covered, because he was certain that she would see the desire in them, and he wasn't ready to tip his hand just yet.

"Miss," one of the police officers began, "Nightwing was briefing us, but he doesn't know the whole story. Would you mind going over it, in detail?"

She nodded and relayed the events of the night, while the officer wrote the information in a small notepad. Dick watched her intently, although, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, and with his eyes covered, he appeared nonchalant instead.

When she was done, and they started to take the criminal out of the diner, she stepped back, away from the burglar, right into Nightwing. He lifted his hands to her upper arms to steady her, but she pulled away. She looked at his mask, where his eyes were hidden, and a current of awareness passed between them. He thought that he heard her breath hitch, and he guessed that she was not indifferent to him, either. Interesting.

She turned away quickly, and Nightwing cleared his throat. "Um, Miss – I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." Better to pretend he was unaware of her identity.

"Oh." She blushed. "Wakeman."

"Well, Miss Wakeman," his voice, without meaning to, sounded breathy, "It seems that you're in good hands, so I'll be going."

She smiled at him shyly, and his heart skipped. "Thank you, for – your help."

He gave her a blinding smile. "You're very welcome." He said his good-byes to the police, and was gone.

Once outside, he pulled the cord free from the building where he had left it earlier, and smiled as he waited for it to retract into its launcher. Things were becoming very interesting with Devon – she was obviously attracted to Nightwing, and he wondered if she would be amenable to a very _casual_ relationship with a vigilante.

It might, in fact, be the answer to all their issues.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **Big thanks to my betareaders, sunflower13 and shells210.**  
**

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

Devon lay in bed, her arms crossed behind her head, thinking about what an odd night it was. The diner was broken into, she disarmed a burglar, the police came and went – luckily without discovering the sniper rifle hidden beneath the floorboard of her bedroom, and, most strange of all, a superhero came, belatedly, to her rescue.

_Nightwing_. She had never heard of him: she wondered why she had never heard of him. She had heard of Batman and Robin, of course, and Flash, and Kid Flash, and Aquaman, and Aqualad, and Superman, of course, and Superboy – not to mention Wonder Woman. She had heard of all of them. But she had never heard of Nightwing.

Perhaps he was a _minor_ superhero – a non-meta, with no powers, who was just not successful enough to have garnered the interest of the media. There were probably _gobs_ of those around: men and women who put on spandex tights and swung around the city and who thwarted a mugging or two. No one important, and no threat.

But he was – _interesting_. And, from what she could see, _gorgeous_. He had an incredible body, that was certain, and what she could see of his face was pretty pleasant, too. He had a strong jaw and a long, straight nose, and – _well_, she reflected, _he's pretty much eye candy from head to toe_.

He seemed tall, too; she loved tall men. It was always exciting to be held by a tall man – to tuck her head into the crook where his arm met his body, and to lay her head against his chest and hear the beating of his heart. She had always been a sucker for tall guys. And guys with black hair. She _loved _black hair. It was so startling, so striking.

She turned over and stared at the wall. Would it be _obvious_ if she left her door unlocked so that another burglar could come in, and perhaps bring Nightwing to her rescue again?

She dismissed that idea as soon as it was born as being stupid. She did _not_ want the diner to be broken into again. She had been lucky tonight – she had not been hurt, no damage had been done, and the police had _not _discovered the rifle. She might not be so lucky again.

No, she would probably never see Nightwing again. After all, she had neither seen nor heard of him before tonight, and chances were good that their paths would never again cross. Besides, in her current line of work, she did _not_ need a vigilante involved.

Still, _should_ she ever see him, she would definitely like to get to know him better.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Day**

Dick came out of his first class of the day, and, as he walked out of the building, he pulled his phone from his pocket and typed out a message to Wally.

_Up for lunch?_

A few seconds later, there was a response.

_**You buying**_**?**

_Of course._

_**Hmm. Let me guess where you want to go.**_

_Yeah._

_**Dude, you're freaking me out.**_

_Don't worry. I just really need to see her._

_**Are you INVOLVED with her?**_

_Define involved._

_**Crap. You are.**_

_Is it a problem?_

_**Define problem.**_

_Are you coming with me or not?_

_**Only to save you from yourself.**_

_You won't need to. Promise. Meet you at the Sci Building at 12?_

_**Yeah. Fine.**_

Dick smiled and put the phone away.

* * *

Dick was there at noon on the dot. He was there when Wally came out with a disgruntled look on his face and a chip on his shoulder. When he saw his friend, Wally pointed at him.

"When we get in the car, you are going to spill. _Everything_." He fell into step beside Dick as they walked to the parking lot.

"There's really not much to say." A grin played at the corner of Dick's mouth.

"Bull. Just a couple of days ago you were moaning that she wouldn't give you the time of day and now –"

"I haven't been with her." Dick interrupted. "I mean, I _saw_ her, but I wasn't _with _her or anything."

"Where have you been, then? Dude, I've been trying to get in touch with you."

Dick threw him a significant look. "Been on the _job_ a lot."

Wally's own look was speculative. "Oh, yeah? Anything new?"

They reached the car, Dick unlocked it, and they got in. "Same old, same old."

"No one trying to kill you?" Wally tossed his backpack in the back seat, and Dick did the same.

"Not for almost two weeks now."

"You think it's over?"

"No. Look, someone _shot _me. Whoever it was isn't going to give up. What happened to him – or her, I don't know. Maybe they're out of town or something, but I don't think it's over." He started the car and pulled out of the parking space.

"Okay, so no news on that front. Why are we going to see Devon? I thought you were over your little obsession. She wasn't interested, remember?"

"My _obsession_? I'm not obsessed." He drove slowly through the lot to the exit, and turned onto the street.

Wally shrugged. "Whatever. You're the one who said, and I quote," he pulled his phone out and scrolled through the text messages. " '_I just really need to see her.' _End quote."

Dick sighed heavily. "Something happened last night."

"You slept with her." Wally guessed.

"What? No!"

"Then what happened?"

"The diner was robbed."

"That sucks. So?"

"So? So, she was there. She lives above it, you know."

"No, I _don't _know. How would I know? _I'm _not stalking her."

"Neither am I!"

"Then how did you know the diner was robbed?"

Dick flushed. "I was – there."

Wally shook his head. "That is not _weird and creepy _at all. You were _watching _her?"

"No!" He turned and saw Wally's unconvinced face. "Not really." He sighed again. "Okay. Maybe."

"Were you _on the job_ at the time?"

"Yeah."

"So you saw the robbery, and swooped in _like a bat_, I'm sure, and saved the damsel in distress?"

Dick shook his head. "No. Actually, she wasn't in distress. She hit the guy on the head – with a skillet."

"A skillet?"

"Yeah, you know. Like a frying pan?" He sped up to pass a truck.

"I know what a skillet is!"

"Okay. Okay. Chill."

"Don't tell me to chill! You're running around after this girl, _spying_ on her, and you tell me to chill?!"

"It's not a big deal."

Wally held up his hands. "Yeah, sure. So you're telling me you _saved_ a girl who didn't need saving."

"Pretty much."

"So, if _she_ saved the day, why do you have to see her?"

He shrugged. "To see if she's okay. You know, PTSD, and all."

"Yeah, I know about PTSD. Maybe she's not feeling it, though. Unless – did the guy hurt her?"

"No." He smiled at the memory. "She took him out."

"So you didn't even need to go in and help her?"

"Oh, no, I went in. I didn't _need_ to, but I did."

"Of course you did."

"Why shouldn't I? She _might_ have needed help."

"But you said she didn't."

"Well, she kind of did. She cut her foot on some broken glass, and I helped her put a bandage on it."

"Oh, aren't _you_ Florence Nightingale?"

Dick grinned at him. "Yeah. And, let me tell you, she must have been ready for bed, because she was wearing almost _nothing_."

Wally was finally ready to listen. "Oh, yeah?"

"Tiny little panties and this _tight _t-shirt –"

"And did she know you were there when she dressed like that?"

"I don't think she dressed like that thinking she was going to be seen _at all_ – let alone get robbed. It was just," he shrugged, "bad luck on her part."

"And good luck on yours."

Dick grinned devilishly. "_Very _good luck on my part."

"So, now she knows you as _Nightwing_?"

Dick grimaced. "Yeah."

"Did you change your voice?"

"Yeah. I hate that voice. I don't know how Bruce does it. It hurts my throat."

"Do you think she recognized you?"

"No. You know no one ever does. They just can't equate someone they know with a superhero."

"Yeah. Great, isn't it?"

"It's definitely one of the perks. Complete anonymity is _very_ liberating."

"So, you want to see her now so that you can find out how she's doing after the robbery attempt?"

Dick nodded.

"Well, that's not too creepy." Wally said with approval.

"Thank you."

"But didn't you two – _Dick _and Devon – agree _not _to see each other?"

"No. _Dick _and Devon agreed _not _to let it be awkward when they – _we_ saw each other. It is _really_ hard talking about yourself in the third person."

"Occupational hazard." Wally smiled.

They found a parking spot along the street near the diner, and walked the remainder of the distance.

The diner was moderately busy, although they found an empty booth easily. Devon came to their table within a minute or so, and smiled broadly when she saw them. "Hey! Dick – and Wally! Good to see you guys." She gave them each a menu, her eyes running over Dick, a glint of appreciation in them.

Dick smiled. "Nice to see you, too."

Wally rolled his eyes as he opened the menu.

Dick turned back to Devon. "How's everything going?"

She grimaced. "We had a robbery attempt last night."

"Oh, no!" Dick said, his ersatz shock palpable. "Were you here? Are you okay?"

She seemed a million miles away, but suddenly snapped back to the present. "Sorry. What?"

"I asked if you were okay."

She nodded. "Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I was. Thanks for asking." She smiled. "I cut my foot on glass, but it's not too bad. I'm limping a little, but I'll survive." She patted the table. "The special today is a Reuben sandwich and fries, and the soup is French onion. I'll be right back with water." She smiled at them both, and walked away. Dick watched her, and noticed that she _was _limping slightly.

Dick looked at his menu, trying not to notice his friend's accusatory glances.

"I had no idea you were such a talented actor, Dick." Wally opened his own menu.

Dick refused to meet his friend's gaze. "Yes, you did. I've been acting since I was nine."

Wally sighed. "I guess we're all acting."

Dick closed his menu and put it down. "The trick is to know _when _someone is acting."

"Yeah. That's a good trick." Wally acknowledged.

* * *

Devon saw them when they entered the diner, and a smile came to her lips. He couldn't stay away from her. He just couldn't. That was okay. She really didn't want him to. It was true that they really couldn't have a relationship, but that didn't mean they couldn't flirt. It would be ultimately unsatisfying, but it would be fun in the meantime.

She went over and greeted them, noticing, firstly, that Wally seemed miffed for some reason, and, secondly, that Dick looked as incredible, as usual. He wore a tight black t-shirt with a tailored gray shirt over it, and dark, slightly tight jeans, and she wanted to drag him to the supply closet and peel off every piece of clothing he wore, and...

Wow. She'd better concentrate on what she was doing.

Dick asked her a question and she tried to respond intelligently, although her mind was still on thoughts of him naked.

She went to get them water, trying to shake the lustful thoughts still in her head. This was not good. She _really _couldn't get involved with him, and here she was working herself into a full-blown obsession with the guy. She needed to step back somehow.

* * *

She walked back to the table with water for each of them. "Are you guys ready?" She slid a glass in front of each.

Dick smiled up at her, and he noticed the rosy flush to her skin and wondered what she had been thinking or doing to get that sort of color in her cheeks. "Yeah. I'll have the special. But no soup."

She smiled. "You got it. Diet soda to drink?"

"You know it."

She turned to Wally. "I'll have a club sandwich. With extra mayo. And a _regular _soda – the more sugar the better."

She smiled. "Sure."

"So, _Devon_, did the burglar get away with a lot of money?" Wally asked, his eyes sliding to Dick.

"No, actually, I," she blushed, "I actually hit him with a skillet and knocked him out before he did much damage."

Wally's eyebrows rose. "_Really_? Did you hear that, Dick?"

Dick's face was like stone. "Yes. I heard. _Incredible_."

"Yeah, but," she cast her eyes down shyly, "a superhero came by to help. Nightwing." She looked back up at them. "Have you heard of him?"

Wally looked unsure. "_Nightwang_? Doesn't ring a bell."

Dick kicked him under the table.

"Oh." She looked surprised. "He – he said he used to be Robin. You know, from _Batman _and Robin?"

Wally looked as if he were deep in thought. "No. I don't think so. Dick?" He looked at his friend. "Have you ever heard of this _Nightwang _joker?"

Dick's smile was tight. "Yeah. But I think it's _Nightwing_."

"No, I'm pretty sure it's _wang_." He turned back to Devon. "You said _wang_, didn't you?"

She looked unsure. "N – no. I'm pretty sure I said _Nightwing_."

"Oh. My mistake." He smiled at her, and she smiled back uncertainly. "So, what's he like? This Nightwing guy? I've never met a superhero. Heard they're all big, pompous windbags."

She blinked at him. "N – no. At least not Nightwing." She smiled. "He was really nice. He tied the burglar up and stayed with me. And – bandaged my foot."

Dick gave a small smile. "Sounds like a good guy."

She blushed again. "Yeah. Yeah. He seems to be."

Wally saw that his joke was collapsing, so he redoubled his efforts to embarrass Dick. "You know, now that you mention it, I _think_ I do know who you mean. Black hair, right? Has a blue silhouette of a bird on his chest?"

"Oh, yeah. That's him." She nodded.

"Yeah. Right. Hey, Dick, didn't you tell me something about how you read online that Batman got rid of him because he was really lazy or something?"

Dick glowered at Wally. "No. No, I don't think so."

Wally looked befuddled. "No? Huh, I could have sworn." He turned back to Devon with a smile. "But he's really not that impressive, though. It's not like he has any _powers_ or anything. He just jumps and twirls around a lot, like a ballerina. I mean, he's not fast, like, say, _Kid Flash_, or incredibly strong, like Superboy. Just an average joe."

Her eyes narrowed at Wally, then her expression cleared, and she looked at him as if he were crazy. "Um, yeah. I – I'll just put your order in." She smiled weakly and left the table quickly.

* * *

As she put in their order, she wondered about the strange exchange. What was Wally going on about? He _really_ appeared to have a problem with Nightwing. Did Wally know Nightwing? He didn't _seem _to, but he may have been lying. What if they did know each other – were they friends, or enemies? They were both on the side of _good_, after all, but that didn't mean anything. Maybe Wally had a rivalry with Nightwing. Maybe Wally's girlfriend had the hots for him. Devon couldn't blame the girl, if that were true. Nightwing was undoubtedly _hot_ – maybe even hotter than Dick. But would jealousy engender such animosity in Wally?

Yeah, of course it would.

Devon turned and surreptitiously looked at the two men, who seemed to be engaged in some sort of an argument.

With his brows drawn down and a frown on his face, Dick looked – dangerous. And completely dishy. Oh, this boy could be trouble to her. Lots and lots of trouble.

* * *

Dick gave his best friend a murderous look. "I'm going to kill you."

Wally smiled beatifically. "I thought that was against your code."

"I'll make an exception." His eyes narrowed.

Wally laughed. "You'll never catch me."

"Why, because you're fast, like _Kid Flash_?" Dick snarled.

"Oh, come on, _Dick_," Wally whispered, leaning forward, "you know you just brought me here so that you could hear her go _on and on _about _Nightwang_. And so that I could hear it, too."

Dick flushed.

"Well, I heard it. And she's _impressed _by you. So screw her and get it over with, because you're starting to become _very _weird."

* * *

Devon watched as Dick and Wally left the diner after paying for their meals, and she hated to admit that she was disappointed. She was disappointed that he hadn't flirted with her, hadn't really expressed any interest beyond that of a concerned friend. She didn't know _why_ she should be disappointed – or surprised, however. She had told him more than once that they couldn't be involved, but now that he was pulling back, respecting her boundaries, she felt – let-down.

_Wow, Devon, you are just **never**__happy, are you_? She asked herself.

It was true; she _definitely _wasn't happy right now, and she was pretty certain that she had no chance of happiness until Larry and his bosses were finished with her. Then she might be able to be with Dick, but she knew that, until then, they had no chance. After all, who wanted to have a relationship with a part-time assassin?

She cleared away the dishes from their table and pocketed Dick's always too generous tip, smiling. He was such a _good_ guy. He knew she worked hard; he knew she was poor, and this was his way of making things a little easier for her.

She sighed. She hated her life.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

Dick flexed his fingers on the bars of his motorcycle as he slid into an alley a few blocks from Devon's diner. He knew he shouldn't be there – he was actually blowing off patrolling in Blüdhaven to be here in Gotham, but he couldn't help himself. He was starting to worry about this compulsion he felt for Devon; even though he had told Wally that he wasn't obsessed, Dick didn't know if he himself believed it.

He received a text on his phone, and he pulled it from his utility belt. It was Barbara.

_Going out tonight_?

He and Barbara had often patrolled together in the past, either in Blüdhaven or in Gotham, and, while dating, their patrols had often ended in hot, electric sex on a rooftop or in one of their apartments. Since their break-up, those instances of patrolling together had been fewer, and, of course, sex was no longer involved.

However, although he still liked and respected Barbara more than almost anyone else he knew, he did not want her along tonight.

He typed in his response.

_**Nope. Staying home studying. You?**_

It was more than a minute until a response came back.

_Going home now. Things are quiet._

_**See you soon.**_

_Night._

Dick looked at the phone for a long while before putting it away. He didn't like to lie to Barbara, but he couldn't really tell her what was going on – firstly, because she would _definitely _frown on him spying on a girl, and secondly, because she would also not approve of him blowing off patrolling.

He sighed. Why wasn't life ever simple?

_It could be, if Bruce has his way_.

The thought wormed its way into his head, unwelcome and insidious.

_If you were no longer Nightwing, you'd be able to have a normal life just like Bruce said – with Barbara or even with Devon. Come on, Dick, you **know **that you could probably change Devon's mind about dating you if you **really** tried. But you don't try because **you** have a secret – a secret you don't want her to know. Wouldn't it be nice to be **normal **instead, like Wally said – walk through a crowd and not wonder if there's someone trying to kill you? Don't you **want **it? Don't you want to come home and bang your beautiful wife and bounce your children on your knee? Isn't that at **least** a little bit attractive?_

"Yes." He said it aloud, startling himself. He looked around to see if anyone had heard him, but the alley was dark and deserted.

"Yeah. I _do_ want it." He said it aloud again, and he felt better.

This feeling had been inside him for _so long_, trying to be recognized, but he had squelched it for _so long_ that, now, to say it aloud, it felt odd and – liberating.

He did want it. He did want a normal life, with a wife and a family, and a job that didn't endanger his life on a daily basis. But, oh God, he _loved _his life now in so many ways. He loved the freedom of swinging through the air; he loved the satisfaction he felt when he saved someone – the unadulterated _adoration _on their faces as they thanked him. How could he live without that? And he had saved so many lives – could he live with himself if he gave that up?

But how could he live without the companionship and love that a family could give him? Did he _want _to?

"Shit." He ran his hands through his hair. "Great time to have an epiphany, Dick."

He knew that he should probably go home and work out these new revelations, but he didn't want to. He _wanted_ to see Devon. If he were to be honest with himself, of course, he would admit that he _wanted_ to kiss her and touch her and lay her down on her bed and make love to her for hours, but, for now, he would have to be satisfied with seeing her.

He got off the motorcycle and wheeled it behind a dumpster. It was well hidden, but, just to be sure it stayed safe, he armed its anti-theft system, which consisted of a wickedly strong shock should it be touched, wheels that would lock if there was an attempt to move it, as well as an engine kill that would also engage should any unauthorized person attempt to start it.

He looked at the motorcycle with satisfaction, and shot out a jumpline to a nearby building. It took him only a few minutes to reach Devon's building, and, as he settled down onto the same branch in the same tree that he had used the first time he had watched her, his conscience reared up within him.

_God, I can't believe I'm doing this – sitting in a tree, **spying **on a girl. What is **wrong** with me? Am I **really **this creepy?_

He was spared from answering himself by Devon's entrance into her room. She flipped on the light, and Dick could see that she was dressed in pajamas, although, this time she wore actual pajama bottoms rather than simply underwear. Dick was disappointed.

She walked to her bureau and pulled out socks and sat on the edge of the bed to put them on. While most men would not consider that an overtly sexy thing to do, Dick watched as if he were at a peep show, so that every flash of the skin on her calves, and the flexing of her muscles as she shimmied the socks on, was erotically charged in his mind.

She moved out of his line of vision and climbed into bed, and, as before, he could only see the bulge of her legs beneath the sheets.

He sat back against the trunk of the tree and looked up into the branches. He really needed a new hobby.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, now we know that Devon thinks Nightwing is pretty hot. She's right – he is. We also know that Dick is not giving up his extracurricular activity of spying on Devon, and that he now thinks that there _may_ be a future for him if Bruce decides to pull the plug on the Bat shenanigans...

Also, please review – I like knowing your opinions!


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **Hello, faithful and PATIENT readers - I'm so glad that you're reading this! I want to let you know that I am SO sorry that I have missed posting for the past couple of weeks. I am sure that some of you might have thought I had abandoned Dick...but have NO fear! I am going to see this fic through to the end!

Anyway, as I mentioned at the beginning of chapter 24 of my Avatar fic "The Spirit Within, Part 2," we have had a serious illness in the family, and were out of town for THREE weeks! It was hard to write while out of town, both physically and mentally. Anyway, we are back home, and life has been settling back into a facsimile of normal.

I have ALSO been busy preparing my first ORIGINAL novel, "Somewhere in the Night," for publication on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. I hope that, when it becomes available, you will consider downloading it onto your Kindle, Nook, smartphone, tablet, etc. I'm not sure if it will be available on iPads/iPhones. I will have to do some homework on that. Anyway, when it is available, I will let you all know.

Back to the actual delay; this was the first self-imposed deadline I've ever missed, but I have been writing A LOT lately, so I am ahead of the curve, with a couple of chapters in reserve. So you can count on regular, weekly updates. You can also count on the same for my Avatar fic.

Anyway, thanks so much, again, for reading, and for being patient. Thanks also to my betareader, sunflower13. I may or may not have lost my second betareader, so if there is anyone out there who is interested in betareading, especially if you know a lot about YJ or the Batfamily DC comics, I would LOVE to hear from you. If my second betareader returns, it will just be a BIGGER, happy family of betareaders.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**A Week Later**

Devon looked with satisfaction at the target. She had hit each mark that she had set – cleanly.

"Just like riding a bike." She smiled, and laid the gun on her shoulder. This was the third night that she had come to the warehouse to practice her marksmanship, spending hours trying to perfect her shots.

She _had_ to be perfect – if she wasn't, she might kill someone. However, she knew that perfection in a closed system such as the warehouse was vastly different from perfection out in the real world, where she had to worry about wind conditions, the trajectory of the bullet, the movement of the target, and a host of other things, including being spotted.

Larry had told her to get some real-world experience, but she really did not know how. She wasn't going to tramp all over Gotham City trying to find a building to shoot from, and she _wasn't_ going to shoot at pigeons from the top of her own building.

What she needed to do was find a building someplace relatively deserted and shoot at stationary objects, which, although perhaps not close to approximating a human target, would at least give her some experience.

A thought came to her. _Well, why not here_? _There's got to be a way to get to the roof_.

With that idea in mind, she packed up the rifle – no need for her to be seen hauling a sniper rifle around, even if it was just around the building – and went outside.

She walked around the building, and found a ladder affixed to the side of the building.

"Bingo." She said in a sing-song voice, and, with one hand, climbed to the top of the warehouse.

She was rewarded with a beautiful view of the harbor and the surrounding city, and she wished that she could see this scene without a sniper rifle in her hands – without being used as a pawn by Larry and his employers. She knew, however, that wishes only came true in fairy tales, and this was certainly not a fairy tale – unless it was one written by Grimm.

She sighed and set down the gun case. Now that she was up here, she needed something to shoot at. She surveyed the area surrounding the warehouse. More warehouses – boring, and with nothing more to shoot than a light bulb.

She smiled when she sighted her target: Gotham Self Storage, a few blocks away. Perfect.

She set up the gun and laid on her belly, put her eye to the scope and took aim.

She pulled the trigger, and the "S" in "Self Storage" went out.

"Gotham Elf Storage. Nice." She giggled.

Her next targets were the "ham" in "Gotham," leaving the sign saying "Got Elf Storage."

She grinned. At least she was having fun.

She took out the "stor" in "storage," leaving the sign saying "Got Elf Rage."

_This is too much fun. Really_.

She took out the remaining letters in "elf," and smiled again.

"Got Rage?" She asked aloud. "Yes. Yes, I do." She shot the rest of the letters, one by one, until they were all dark. She almost felt bad that she had destroyed the sign for a small business, but, in her mind, it was better than destroying a living thing.

She shot at some more stationary objects, including a window in a darkened warehouse, the headlights of a derelict pick-up truck, and both of the truck's front tires, although they were already flat.

After exhausting many of the targets around the area, she decided to call it quits for the night, and she took the gun back to the closet in the warehouse.

As she stowed the weapon away, her eyes ran over the other items in the unit. Her eyes alighted on a taser, and she reached for it slowly. It might be a good idea if she carried one – especially if she was going to continue coming to this neighborhood at night.

She slipped it into her backpack, closed the cabinet, locked up the warehouse, and began the long walk to the bus stop.

* * *

"I'm really glad you're here, Dick." Tim swung his bo staff at his older brother, who avoided the blow.

Nightwing grinned and made a grab for his opponent's wrist. "I haven't been training enough anyway."

Dick had come to the BatCave trying to get away from the thoughts swirling in his head – thoughts, mostly, of his recent realization that _maybe_ he did want to live a normal life, and put his persona of Nightwing away forever.

This self-revelation had left him feeling restless and vaguely guilty for neglecting his training lately. Time that could have been spent training he often spent instead spying on Devon. It was some compulsion within himself that he could not reconcile – he _knew _that it was wrong, but he could not seem to prevent himself from doing it. He also knew that it would lead to nothing – it's not as if Nightwing could strike up a relationship with her. Especially if she found out that he had been watching her through her bedroom window. Still, night after night, he had climbed the tree and sat outside her window, watching her – so far, he had seen her studying and sleeping and preparing for bed – once she had even undressed before the window, but he had closed his eyes. He did not want to see her nude – not like that, anyway. He simply wanted to _be_in her presence, to be able to look at her, as he would if she were his – if she belonged to him. Seeing her naked in such a disconnected way, though, would be – cheating. When he saw her naked – should he ever see her naked – he wanted it to be reciprocal. He wanted to see her eyes glazed with passion; he wanted his hands on her, and her hands on him; he wanted her to _want_ him as much as he wanted her; he wanted her to _give _him that privilege. He would not _take_ it without her permission.

He realized, though, that her permission might never come. But, still, he did not want to steal her choice away from her.

He also realized, though, that, by spying on her, he was taking another choice away from her, but he could not bring himself to separate himself from her entirely.

He did not know why he was doing this – he would surely never have done that to Barbara, or Zatanna, or Raquel. So why did he have this almost _overpowering_ desire to be near her, no matter the circumstance?

Dick was brought back to the present when Tim twisted away, but he instead caught hold of Tim's bo staff. The younger man, with a firm grip on his weapon, rolled, pulling it away.

Dick smiled appreciatively as Tim jumped to his feet. "Good one."

Tim grinned as they circled one another. "Thanks." He indicated Nightwing's escrima sticks hanging from his belt. "Why don't you come at me with those?"

"You think you're ready for that?"

"I can handle it."

Dick swiftly pulled his own weapons free and came at Tim, his movements quick and confident. Tim held him off for several seconds, but then began to retreat.

Dick smiled as he gained the upper hand, and his movements became more aggressive, driving Tim across the floor. "You've bitten off more than you can chew, Timmy."

"I think I can hold my own." Tim stood his ground.

Dick raised an eyebrow, although, under the mask, Tim could not see it. "Really? I'm better than you. I'm older, and I have more experience."

"And you also talk _a lot_ more." Tim swung his staff towards Nightwing's legs

"Is that a problem?" Dick avoided it, but his escrima stick headed for Red Robin's throat.

Tim blocked. "Not at all. I just thought that your jaw must get tired."

"I can talk all night." His second escrima came at his opponent, whistling with speed.

"And you usually do." Tim's gauntlet took the majority of the impact when he raised his arm to intercept the swing.

"I have a lot to say." Dick grinned.

Tim answered with his own smile – this one satisfied and knowing. "Oh, yeah? What did you say when Bruce told you he wants us all to quit?"

Dick was not expecting that, and there was a slight hesitation in his forward motion – enough that Tim was able to get in under his defenses, bring his older brother to the mat, and pin him.

"He told you." Dick lay still.

Tim released him and sat back on his haunches. "Yeah." He pulled back his cowl.

Dick sat up. "When?"

"Four days ago."

There was a long silence. "And?" Dick prompted him.

"And what?"

"What did you say?"

"What _could _I say? If Bruce wants to get out of the hero business, there's not much that _I _can do about it."

"But what did you say to him?"

"I – didn't say much. I guess I might have said 'okay.'"

"'_Okay_?' That's all you said?"

"What did you want me to say, Dick? He caught me kind of – off guard. Hell, I'm still _off guard_ about it."

"So you told him it was okay?"

"No. I didn't tell him it was _okay_. I said 'okay,' as in, 'okay, I hear you.'"

"But how do you _feel_?"

"Who are you, Dr. Phil?" Tim scrambled to his feet. "How long ago did he tell _you_?"

"A couple of weeks – more or less."

"A couple of weeks? And you've been _sitting_ on that all this time? Thanks for giving me the heads up."

"He didn't want me to give you a heads up, Tim. He wanted to tell you himself, when the time was right."

"Okay. Fine. So he's told me – and he's told you. I guess telling the demon spawn is next."

"Or Barbara."

"Yeah. Wow, I wish I could be a fly on the wall when he tells Damian. The little creep's going to go _ballistic_."

"Tim..." Dick began.

Tim, his gaze in the distance, shrugged. "Oh, well. That's okay. Even if I don't see his face when Bruce tells him, I still get to see his misery at Thanksgiving, and Christmas – and birthdays." His face was lit with glee. "It's the gift that keeps on giving."

"Tim, look, I know that you and Damian don't get along –"

Tim held up a hand. "Please don't try to play family therapist, Dick. Damian and I will _never_ get along. He loathes me and I can't stand him." At the frown on Dick's face, he sighed. "But don't worry. I won't rub his face in it."

"That's a start."

"It's probably all you'll ever get from me. And more than you'll get from the devil child." He changed the subject. "So what did _you_ do when Bruce told you?"

Dick let out a long breath. "I _wasn't_ happy."

"And now?"

Dick stared sightlessly at his own clasped hands. "I don't know. I _don't _want to stop being Nightwing. I – love it. But I get what he's saying. And sometimes –" he shrugged. "Sometimes I _do _want what he's talking about. A real life. A normal life. How about you?"

"I don't know. I love it, too – but, if I had to, I'd – do something else." He looked seriously at Dick. "I'm not you. I haven't been doing this since I was nine. I never wanted to be the _Batman_. I never expected it."

'But you think _I_ do?"

"Dick, you've already been _him_ before – for you, it's a foregone conclusion."

"That I'd be Batman?"

"Of course. Dick, you've been raised to _be _Batman – as much as you were ever raised to be a Flying Grayson. But me?" He shrugged. "I was the kid who just wanted to be Robin. The one who wanted to help. And – I can see a future without me being Red Robin."

"Yeah?" Dick idly removed one of his gloves to scratch his palm.

"Yeah. Besides, Bruce has already promised me CEO of Wayne Industries."

At that, Dick's head snapped up. "Wait. He said I was supposed to be CEO."

There was a glimmer of mischief in Tim's eyes. "Yeah. I know. I was just pulling your leg."

Dick chuckled. "I wouldn't mind if he did. I don't think I want to do it. Hell, you're smarter than I am, anyway. You'd do a better job."

"Of course I would. But you and I – and Bruce, obviously, know that Damian would crap a brick if _I_ was in charge. He'll have a hard enough time accepting you. And you he _likes_."

"He's not a bad person, Tim. You just have to spend some time with him."

"I have. Remember? He cut my damn line."

"That _may_ have been an accident."

"Dick, he said, 'ha, Drake! I cut your line.' How is that an accident?"

"Well, at least he admitted it." Dick offered lamely.

"Oh, yeah. That made _all _the difference in the world as I was falling to my death."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Four Nights Later**

Dick wearily climbed the tree outside Devon's window. This was the third time this week that he had come by, and, he had to admit, he was tired. Fighting crime in Blüdhaven every night, coming to Gotham to visit Devon, then returning to Blüdhaven to his apartment was taking a toll on his sleep time. Couple that with class and studying, and he was stretched.

But he wouldn't give this up – seeing her. He was simply enjoying it too much.

Her room was in darkness, and, as he settled on his customary branch, he switched on the night vision optics in his mask. She wasn't in the room, so he switched off the mask and sat back to wait.

He stared up through the lacy leaves of the cedar tree, up at the faintness of the stars. In the lights of Gotham, the stars were barely visible, but he found that, if he concentrated on one point in the sky, he could make out the stars' edges.

His comm buzzed in his ear, and he reached up to silence it. A crackling voice came through.

"Nightwing?" It was Barbara. "Nightwing, are you there?"

Dick sighed silently. She sounded worried, but not in any danger. Had she asked him for help, of course, he would have abandoned this post and gone to her aid immediately, but that did not seem the case. She worried about him too much; that was part of their problem – they worried about each other too much.

He switched off the comm completely. He did not want to talk to Barbara; in fact, he had been avoiding her. He didn't exactly know why, however. Perhaps he was afraid that she would see the guilt in his eyes – guilt over his pursuit, if that was the right word, of Devon. He knew that Barbara did not begrudge him happiness with another girl, but he did know that she would not approve of his stalking Devon – and he was certain that Batgirl would consider it stalking.

However, although he had switched the comm off, he knew that was not the end of it. If he did not respond, she would immediately think something was wrong, and come after him.

He pulled out his cell and brought up her contact.

_Can't talk now. In the middle of something. Everything good. Talk to you soon._

He sent the text, and, in less than a minute, she responded.

_**Yes, we WILL need to talk. Goodnight.**_

Dick sighed again. She was suspicious.

Well, he couldn't worry about her now. Devon had just entered her room.

He knew that something was wrong from the moment she entered. She flipped on the light, and he could see her wipe her face, as if wiping away tears. She walked over to the bureau and pulled open a drawer. She reached in slowly, and stood looking into the drawer for a long time. She lowered her head, and he could hear sobs.

He unconsciously moved forward on the branch, intending to do what, he wasn't certain. Did he want to see what she was crying over? Did he want to comfort her?

Suddenly, though, he was wrenched back into vigilance when the branch bowed under his weight, and he lost his balance.

There was a loud shuddering of the branch, and, when he realized this, he shot up into the safety of higher boughs.

Released from supporting him, the branch sprang upwards, and the leaflets shivered loudly as they bounced.

Devon turned sharply, shutting the drawer. She walked to the window and peered out as Dick plastered himself to the trunk and stilled, hoping that she would not see him.

She looked around, at the tree, at the ground, up into the sky, but her eyes did not seem to hesitate on his hiding place.

"Stupid raccoons." She said aloud, and shut the window.

Dick breathed a sigh of relief, but he did not move until fifteen minutes after the light in the room was extinguished, when he slid silently down the tree and melted into the night.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

It had been a hard day for Devon. Not because of her job, or because of her classes, or because of her lousy predicament with Larry, but just because it _was_.

It was seventeen years ago, to the day, that she had lost her family.

She still remembered aspects of that day. Shades of memories crept up on her – her grandmother irate, her parents defensive, her sister silent, her own tears.

She remembered her grandmother's anger. "You must stop this! You can't keep doing this to her!" Her grandmother had argued, scooping four-year old Devon into her arms.

Her mother had protested. "She's _our _daughter! We're doing what's best for her!"

"What's best for _her_, or what's best for Ingrid – or for you?" Her grandmother had pointed at Devon's older sister, standing stoically by their father.

"What's best for _our _family." Devon's mother had said stubbornly.

"It's wrong! It's wrong, and you know it!" Her grandmother had replied, and carried Devon from the room.

Her parents had followed, and, when Devon had been bundled into her grandmother's car, they had attempted to wrench the door open, but Marie had sped off, leaving Devon's parents yelling after them.

Devon had turned in the back seat of the car, and watched as the figures of her parents and her sister grew smaller.

It was the last time that she had ever seen them.

Now, almost a lifetime later, she remembered them. Her parents, so loving but so single minded, Ingrid, the sister five years her senior, who had been so sick for so long.

Devon was the only one of their little family still alive – and sometimes, it was hard to be the one left behind.

It was also hard for Devon's grandmother, who bore so much guilt for that night. As the anniversary of her son and his family's death came each year, Marie became quiet and withdrawn, leaving her granddaughter lacking anyone to talk to about the seminal event of her young life.

And on this night, the actual date of their death, Marie Wakeman had, after a silent dinner with her granddaughter, locked herself away in her room with only her loyal dog for company.

This left Devon alone – alone to think, to cry, and to mourn.

Devon went to her bedroom finally, after listlessly trying to watch television all evening, and opened the drawer in her bureau where she kept the only picture that she had of her family.

It was old, and faded, and dog-eared, but it showed a happy group; her mother and father, usually so serious, smiling delightedly, and Ingrid holding a chubby, happy Devon on her lap.

Devon hung her head to cry – after all this time, she still missed them. Sometimes she missed them so much that she couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

She heard the sound of leaves rustling, and she turned sharply, shutting the drawer.

Warily, she approached the window and looked out, expecting, for some reason, to see Larry perched in the tree, spying on her.

She peered closely into the branches, and, with eyes trained to catch the smallest inconsistency, she saw him. A man – trying to remain still in the blackness of night.

He wore black, so he blended into his surroundings well, although she caught a flash of blue as the leaflets shifted.

_Nightwing_! What the hell was he doing here, outside her window? Did he think that the diner was going to be broken into again? Or worse, did he know – about her, about the rifle just beneath her feet?

_How could he?_ She reasoned. And, if he did, wouldn't he send the police?

_For what_? She asked herself. She hadn't committed any crime. _Yet_.

So why was he here, outside her window?

She leaned out and looked all around – down to the ground and up above, but saw nothing else odd.

Whatever Nightwing was doing there, she would not reveal that she saw him.

"Stupid raccoons." She said, loudly, and pulled her head within her room. With finality, she shut the window, turned off her light, and lay down to await his move – if there was one.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

The alarm sounded in Devon's ear, and she jumped, staring into the darkness.

"Shit." She had fallen asleep. She had lain down, waiting for Nightwing to do _something_, and she had fallen asleep!

_Damn it_! He was surely gone by now.

She scrambled off her bed, went to the window, opened it, and peered out at the tree. Empty.

She groaned. She had really wanted to find out his motives for being outside her bedroom, and she hadn't.

She pressed her lips together, thinking. Would he come back?

She smiled. Well, if he did, she was going to be ready for him!

She did not know what she would do, but she had a feeling that, whatever happened, they would both enjoy it.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I hoped you liked this chapter that was overlong in coming. Devon now knows about Nightwing's little hobby of spying on her. Let's see what she does...

PLEASE review if you liked the chapter! THANK YOU!


	13. Chapter 13

**Blüdhaven**

**The Next Morning**

* * *

Dick's cell phone rang, and, mostly asleep, he fumbled for it, looking at the display before he swiped the screen to answer it.

Bruce's contact information was displayed, and Dick sat up, all traces of sleep gone. He answered the phone with a sense of urgency. Bruce _never _called unless it was important.

"Bruce?" Dick's voice betrayed his anxiety.

"I'm sending a car for you. It will be there in a half hour."

Dick was already up, heading for the bathroom. "What is it?"

"I have a job for you. Are you up to it?"

Dick turned on the hot water in the shower and shoved his underwear off. "Of course. What is it? Something for one of the cases you're working on?"

"You'll find out soon enough. Your schedule is clear through lunch."

"Uh, yeah. I don't have a class today until one."

"It wasn't a question. I'll talk to you later."

He hung up, and Dick pulled the phone away to look at the screen. _Damn mysterious bat_! He shook his head and laid the phone on the sink before stepping into the shower.

As he lathered, he wondered what Bruce wanted him for. Was it one of his cases – or League business – or the Team? No, it wouldn't be the Team; if it was, he would have heard of it already. That left one of Batman's cases or League business. Unless – unless he wanted to talk about something about _him_. Shit. What could Bruce want to talk to him about? What had he done lately that might merit Bruce's attention?

_How about spying on Devon_? _Not something the Batman would approve of._

Dick groaned. Devon. He did not want to talk to Bruce about her – not again. The last time had been too mortifying.

Dick's thoughts turned to Devon, and he remembered how she had looked the night before, when she was crying. He wondered what had upset her so; he had hated seeing that, which is why he had taken that precarious step towards her that had caused the branch to creak. He had wanted to reach out to her; he had wanted to touch her, take her in his arms and hold her until the tears passed, and then he wanted to kiss each and every tear off her skin.

Dick washed himself with long strokes as he thought of her, and he felt himself grow hard. He leaned one hand on the tile of the shower stall and continued, imagining Devon's hands and mouth on him.

His more rational side broke in, however, and he groaned. He didn't have time for this, no matter how much he needed it. Bruce said that a car would be there in a half hour, and Bruce was _always_ timely.

He finished his shower, willed his erection to go away, ran out to the kitchen, devoured a bowl of frosted flakes, ran back to the bathroom to brush his teeth and shave, threw on some clothes, and was ready when the doorbell rang exactly thirty minutes after he had hung up with Bruce.

He peered through the peephole (no sense being careless), to see a chauffeur standing there, immaculate in his uniform.

Dick opened the door.

"Mr. Grayson, Sir. Mr. Wayne sent a car for you."

Dick locked the door and stepped out into the hall. "Thank you." He followed the man down to a limousine double-parked in front of the building. The chauffeur opened the rear door for Dick, who ducked in – to find Lucius Fox already sitting in the car.

"Mr. Fox?" Dick was confused. "What are you doing here?"

Lucius smiled as the driver pulled into traffic. "This is _my _car. Bruce asked me to pick you up and take you into the office."

"Oh." A lightbulb went off in Dick's brain, and he leaned back on the cushions of the seat. "So when Bruce said he had a job for me..." he trailed off, and Lucius smiled more widely.

"He meant mine."

"Ah." Dick shook his head slowly. "I should have known."

"Maybe you should have."

"He could have just told me. And let me drive myself."

"Bruce does things his own way. And maybe he _knows _you a little too well."

"Knows that I would have found an excuse not to go?"

"Perhaps. Now, Bruce told me about his plans – how much has he told you?"

Dick ran a hand through his hair. "Not much. Some. He wants me to take over from you –" he shot Lucius an apologetic look, "when you're ready. You know. Not – pushing you out – or – anything." He finished lamely.

Lucius chuckled. "I know, son." He patted Dick's leg. "Bruce and I have been through _far _too much together for me to be threatened by his preparing for the future. No," he added, a finger in the air, "it's a _good_ idea to know who'll succeed me when I retire. Of course," he shrugged, "I always assumed it would be Bruce, but," he shook his head, "_I _should have known he wouldn't want that for himself." He gave Dick an avuncular smile, "You're very lucky to have someone who looks out for you like Bruce."

Dick nodded, and turned to look at the buildings sweeping past. "I know. I just –" he frowned.

"– Don't want it either."

Dick turned back to Lucius, his brows raised. "No. No. it's not _that_. It's just that I – wanted..." He didn't know what to say.

Lucius smiled kindly. "To do something else with your life."

Dick sighed. "Yes. I guess so."

Lucius chuckled. "I understand. But, even though it's not as exciting as what you're used to, it can be – exhilarating." At Dick's skeptical look, he chuckled again. "You still get the thrill of the chase when you're _chasing_ a big deal. It _is_ a bit – different, of course."

Dick smiled wanly. "If you say so."

"Just give it a chance. Really. It will grow on you."

They arrived at the Wayne Enterprises building, and Dick followed Lucius into the private elevator and into the CEO's office.

"Morning, Joan." Lucius greeted his secretary. "Mr. Grayson is here for some – orientation."

The older woman smiled at Dick. "Should I get him the files you had prepared for him?"

Lucius nodded at her..

Dick stood while Joan loaded his arms with several thick binders. "Thank you, ma'am." He gave her a dazzling smile.

"Just call me Joan, Mr. Grayson."

"Then you should call me Dick."

"All right – Dick."

He winked at her and went through to Lucius's private office.

He waited while Lucius took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his desk chair, and the older man caught sight of him. "Why don't you," he waved a hand towards a coffee table in front of a sofa, "put those heavy things down?"

"Thanks." Dick did as he was bade. "Don't you think it would be easier to give me everything on a jump drive?"

Lucius smiled, but shook his head. "No. It's actually more secure to give them to you the old-fashioned way."

"I'm not so sure about that. I _do _have access to a pretty impenetrable computer system."

"Which Bruce does not want you to use for this."

"Oh." Dick looked at the pile. "In that case, I wish I had brought along my backpack."

Lucius came over and patted Dick on the shoulder. "Not to worry. Just take them home little by little."

Dick gave a crooked smile. "So does that mean that my coming here will become a regular thing?"

Lucius frowned. "Not if you don't want it to be."

"No, no." Dick was quick to reassure him. "It's fine. It's – fine. Really. It will just take – some getting used to."

Lucius smiled kindly. "You will. Get used to it."

The intercom on his desk buzzed, and Lucius walked over to it. "Yes?"

"Mr. Fox, your 8:30 is here."

"Thank you, Joan. Send him in." He smiled at Dick. "Ready to jump in, feet first?"

Dick sighed. "As ready as I'll ever be."

* * *

Dick sat in not only on Lucius's 8:30 AM meeting, but his 10:00 AM meeting, and his 11:30 AM meeting, which ended at about 12:15 PM. This left Dick, after briefly thanking Lucius for his time, sprinting for Gotham University. Bruce, being Bruce, had made certain that Dick's car was waiting for him in the parking lot, and that his backpack was inside his car.

Dick smiled at the valet as the man hopped out of the car, and, within a minute, he was speeding towards the university. As he turned into the parking lot at a bit more than the speed limit, a person stepped into the path of the car, and Dick threw on his brakes, coming to a screeching stop. The pedestrian jumped back as Dick's car left long skid marks on the pavement.

Instantly contrite, an apology formed on his lips, and he threw his car into _park_.

Devon stared at the car, her knuckles white on the strap of her backpack.

_Shit shit shit shit shit shit_, Dick swore at himself. The _one _person that he did not want to embarrass himself in front of, and there she stood.

He jumped out of the car and rushed over to her. "Devon! I am _so _sorry. I – I didn't see you, and I'm late for class, and I _know_ that I was driving too fast, and I am _so, so_ sorry. Are you hurt?" He unconsciously grabbed her arm, but she twisted out of it, holding her palm up at him.

"Dick?"

He gave a weak smile. "Hi."

Her face was twisted in confusion. "D – did you try to hit me _on purpose_?"

"_What_?" He was horrified that she would think that, but, really, how did it look? That he just _happened_ to have almost hit the woman who had turned him down – who had repulsed his advances? "No! No! God, _no_!"

"Okay. Okay." Her voice was shaky, and she stepped away.

His heart fell. She was obviously angry.

_Angry? Of course she's angry, you **idiot**_! _You nearly ran her over_!

"I'm really sorry. Really. It was an accident. I – I would never –"

There was a sudden honking behind him, and they both turned to find another car behind Dick's. The man driving it, obviously a student, leaned out of his car window. "Hey, genius! You want to move your car out of the way? That _isn't _a parking spot."

"Yeah! Yeah! I will." Dick turned back to Devon, who was holding a hand to her head, and he stepped towards her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." Both hands came up, as if to hold him off. "I – I'm fine." She waved wearily towards his car. "Just go – move your car."

He groaned silently. She wasn't forgiving him.

"Can I – can I take you anywhere?"

She shook her head. "No. Just – just – go." She pushed past him and was gone, and he was left staring after her while more cars joined the first in honking at him.

* * *

Devon _was _angry. However, she was angry with herself, rather than with Dick. Oh, she had been frightened by the car careening towards her, and even slightly annoyed that the driver had been driving so recklessly, but _she _had stepped into his path without looking. It was her fault that she had almost been run over – she should have been looking – should have been more cautious.

Her mind, however, had been elsewhere; mainly, with Nightwing.

She was still trying to puzzle out why he had been outside her window the night before; she had been so pre-occupied – all day, in fact, that her grandmother had told her to leave the diner early after Devon had given the wrong change to two people, and had gotten several orders wrong.

Unfortunately, Devon's thoughts continued to be consumed by the riddle of the hero's presence, and she had not noticed that she was walking across a parking lot entrance.

When Dick's car stopped suddenly, she jumped out of the way, and did not realize, until he rushed out of his car and up to her, that he was the driver. "Devon! I am _so _sorry. I – I didn't see you, and I'm late for class, and I _know_ that I was driving too fast, and I am _so, so_ sorry. Are you hurt?" He took her arm, but she twisted out of it, holding her palm up at him in an attempt to gain some space.

"Dick?" _He _had almost hit her? Had he done it on purpose? No, he couldn't have; _she_ had walked in front of him. Wait. _Could_ he have done it deliberately?

His face was _obviously_ concerned. "Hi." He said sheepishly.

She frowned. "D – did you try to hit me _on purpose_?"

"_What_?" He looked horrified, and she realized that she had been mistaken. "No! No! God, _no_!"

"Okay. Okay." Her voice was shaky, and she stepped away, upset and trembling about her close call.

He had regret on his face. "I'm really sorry. Really. It was an accident. I – I would never –"

There was a sudden honking behind him, and they both turned to find another car behind Dick's. The man driving it, obviously a student, leaned out of his car window. "Hey, genius! You want to move your car out of the way? That _isn't _a parking spot."

"Yeah! Yeah! I will." Dick turned back to Devon, who was watching him, a hand on her head, trying to still the shakiness. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." Both hands came up; she really didn't want him to get closer. Although she was certain now that he had meant her no harm, she still felt on edge, and she needed space. "I – I'm fine." She waved wearily towards his car. "Just go – move your car."

He looked at her with worried eyes. "Can I – can I take you anywhere?"

She shook her head. "No. Just – just – go." She pushed past him and was gone, her head starting to pound, and certain that he thought that she must be crazy.

* * *

**Gotham University**

**Later That Day**

Dick's text alert went off as he was leaving his last class. Bruce.

Dick sighed as he looked at the message.

_**Had a productive morning?**_

"Funny, Bruce." Dick muttered. He typed a response as he walked. _You could have just asked me to go._

A response came a minute later. _**I did. Over a month ago**_**.**

Dick sighed again. Bruce was right – again.

_It was a good morning. I'm going back on Friday._

_**Good man**_**.**

_Me or Lucius?_

_**Both. Come by the house tonight.**_

Dick groaned. He had a lot of homework, and, of course, there was _always _patrolling, and he _really _wanted to go by Devon's...

_I'll come by after dinner._

_**We'll go out together later.**_

That was Bruce-speak for patrolling together.

Dick smiled slightly. It had been a while since he and Bruce had gone out patrolling _together_. Sure, they frequently _ended _up patrolling together, but _going_ out together, as they had in the old days – well, that was a rare occurrence.

_That'll be great_.

He slid his phone into his pocket, a renewed spring in his step. He really missed going out with Bruce; there was a camaraderie, a _rightness_ to patrolling with him, that Dick had never experienced with anyone else – not Tim, or Damian, or even Barbara. With Bruce, he _always _knew what to expect – not during the day, when he was Bruce Wayne, but at night, when he was Batman. Dick could predict Batman's reaction to any situation, and it gave Dick a measure of confidence that he never felt with another person, or in any other situation.

Dick's euphoria did not last long, though; when he reached his car, the details of his encounter with Devon returned. _Encounter _was not the right word, however; _run-in_ was entirely too appropriate. He shook his head in self-disgust as he fumbled for his key fob.

"Hey, give me a ride?"

Dick jumped at the proximity of the voice, dropping his keys, and, in less than the blink of an eye, Wally caught them before they hit the ground.

"Will you _not_ do that?" Dick asked in irritation, as he always did when Wally used his speedster skills to sneak up on him.

Wally smiled cheekily and apologized, as he always did when he used his speedster skills to sneak up on Dick. "Sorry. Couldn't resist.""

Dick snatched the keys from his best friend, a dark look on his face. "Why do you need a ride? You _live _on campus." He obediently unlocked the passenger door so that Wally could get in.

"Thanks. I am not _actually _going home. I have to go to a bookstore over on Plymouth. Can you take me?"

"When are you going to get a car?" Dick slung his backpack in the backseat, and Wally followed suit.

"When I _need _one. And, thus far, I have not needed one." He buckled himself in.

"You need one now." Dick started the car.

"No, I don't. I have _your_ car. With you as driver, natch."

Dick pulled out of the space. "So I'm your chauffeur?"

"No. You're my best friend. This," he spread his hands expansively to indicate the car interior, "is what best friends do."

Dick gave him a sidelong glance, and a smile. "That's true. What's the name of the bookstore?"

"Recycled Reads. It's on Eighth and Plymouth. You know it?"

"Yeah. Why you going there?"

"I need a book."

"_That _I never would have guessed. Haven't you ever heard of something called _the internet_? You can read books on it, I hear."

"Ha. Ha. What a sense of humor. This is a very _old_ book."

"So why do you need a _very old book_?"

"Doing a paper about the influence of Percy Julian's discoveries, and I need his biography – which is not available online."

"Am I supposed to know who he is?"

Wally looked outraged. "He was _just_ a trailblazer in twentieth century chemistry, _and _one of the most important American chemists, _ever_, _and_ a pioneer in the African-American community!"

Dick's eyes opened wide. "I'm sorry I didn't know who he was."

"And now you do."

Dick grinned. "And now I do."

"See how enlightening it is to have me as your best pal?"

"Downright illuminating."

"That's right! And don't you ever forget it." He pointed at Dick playfully.

"How could I, with you always here to remind me?"

"What are friends for?"

"Mooching?"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that. So, are you going on patrol tonight?"

Dick nodded. "You?"

"There's that sense of humor again."

"Well, you know, when you've got it..."

"Yeah, you've got it, all right. And speaking of _getting it,_ anyone new on the horizon?"

Dick flushed. "I ran into Devon today."

"Dude!" Wally said plaintively. "When are you going to give that up?"

"No, Wally. I _ran _into her. With my car."

"You _hit_ her with your _car_? Are you _crazy_?"

"I didn't _exactly_ hit her. I _almost _hit her."

"Have you _lost _your mind? She says she can't date you, she even says she's _sorry_ she can't date you, and so you try to _kill _her?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It was an accident."

"So you _accidentally_ almost ran over the girl who friendzoned you?"

"It wasn't like that." Dick insisted.

Wally threw his hands up. "Dude, _whatever_. But you're in _real danger _of turning into stalker-revenge man."

They pulled up to the bookstore, and Dick sighed as he put the car into park. "It's really not like that."

"Okay. Whatever you say." Wally released his seat belt and opened the door. "Thanks for the ride."

Dick nodded, and watched as Wally disappeared into the store. It really sucked that his best friend thought that he was a creep.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night **

The text came in that night while Devon was filling the sugar shakers in the diner after . She pulled the phone from her pocket tiredly – she was _exhausted_. It had been a long day, and she was more than ready for bed. She wasn't even sure if she could stay up to wait for Nightwing, in case he showed.

She looked at the phone display. It was Larry's number. Her pulse quickened.

_**Seventeenth and Court Street. One hour.**_

She groaned, and shook her head. No. Not tonight. She was _so _tired. Actually, not _ever_. She still did not want to shoot at _anyone_, even if it was just to miss.

Still, she knew that she could not ignore this summons. She had to go.

She had to go try to _not _kill someone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I hope you enjoyed this chapter, in which a collision occurs, and one is anticipated...and I won't say anything else. I have been accused of giving things away in the Author's Notes.

Anyway, I hope you liked it. I enjoyed writing it, and I actually have been writing a lot of this fic lately; I play a little Arkham City Armored Edition and it inspires me. I love playing as Nightwing on the bonus levels – he looks great, except for his CREEPY eyes. Ugh.

Please review when you get a chance!


	14. Chapter 14

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

Devon ran upstairs and into the kitchen, where her grandmother was unloading the dishwasher.

"Why are you in such a rush?"

Devon gave Marie a shadowed look. "I have an assignment."

Her grandmother looked puzzled. "So go to your room and do it – I can finish filling the sugar shakers."

Devon gave a small groan of exasperation. "Not _that_ kind of assignment. A _Larry_-kind of assignment."

"Oh – _oh_!"

"I have to be at Seventeenth and Court in an hour. And I'm so _exhausted _I can barely hold my head up."

"I think I can help you with that. Go get the gun. "

Devon gave her grandmother an uncertain look, but did as she was told. She went to her bedroom, closed the door, and drew the curtains over the closed window. It would _not_ be a good idea if Nightwing saw her getting ready for a sniper job.

She dressed all in black, and grabbed a ski mask that she had taken from the warehouse the week prior, as well as the taser she had gotten. She stuck a small pocket knife in her boot, a flashlight in her pocket, and retrieved the gun from beneath the floorboards, making certain that the boards were replaced properly.

She rushed back to the kitchen, the gun, disassembled and in a backpack, over her shoulder.

Her grandmother held open her palm to reveal three small, yellow pills.

Devon looked at them suspiciously. "What are they?"

"Caffeine pills. They should kick in within a half hour."

Devon shrugged. "Why not? Between the adrenaline and the caffeine, I should be alert." She threw the pills into her mouth and swallowed them without water. "Yuck. The coating tastes terrible."

"Another reason to take them with water."

"I don't want to have to pee in the middle of trying to shoot someone, Grandma."

"Good idea." She straightened the collar on Devon's black shirt. "How are you getting there?"

"Walking. It's five blocks over and two blocks up."

"Is it safe?"

"I'm an assassin. I'll be fine."

"Why aren't you wearing a thicker jacket?"

"I won't be cold."

"Hmmph. How do you know?"

"Because I know. Now stop worrying. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Do you have gloves?

"Yes."

"Got your phone?"

"In my pocket."

"Okay, then. I guess you're ready. Do you want to take a snack along?"

"_Really_? Grandma, this is _not_ the first day of school."

"I'm entitled to be worried and ask stupid questions. Be careful."

"I will."

As Devon left the apartment, she reflected upon what she had told her grandmother, and wished that she felt the sort of confidence in this mission that she had projected to the older woman. The truth was that Devon _was _worried – how could she not be? She didn't _want_ to do this, and she certainly held no misconception that she was a _trained_ assassin. She had spent a lot of time, in her younger years, training under Larry and his ilk, but she had always hoped to avoid putting the training into practice, and she had, for the most part, gotten her wish for over six years. Now, though, it seemed her luck had run out.

She opened the outside door and, craning her neck around it, peered up into the tree. She couldn't see anything, so she flashed a light into the branches. Not very subtle, but effective.

There was no one there, and, with a quick sweep of the light around the area, she determined that she was alone, and, switching the light off, she ventured outside.

It was cold out, and Devon immediately regretted not bringing a warmer jacket, but shrugged off her discomfort. The walk would warm her up enough, she was certain.

At almost eleven at night, the entire downtown was deserted, and Devon saw no one during the ten-minute walk. She stopped before she reached the assigned corner, and stepped into an alley.

Just then, the text alert on her phone sounded, and she pulled it from her pocket. Larry's number was displayed, and she tapped the screen.

_**First National Bank of Gotham building**_

Devon looked around her and saw the structure in question, which was under renovation. Scaffolding wrapped the lower floors, and plywood obscured the first. She approached the building, and, as she did, another message came in.

_**Door in the back unlocked**_

Someone was watching her. Her eyes narrowed, and she typed a response.

_Alarms? Cameras?_

_**Disabled**_

"Fine." She mumbled, and walked around the building, past a large dumpster with a construction chute, until she reached a scuffed door. She wisely put gloves on, and, with a glance around her, she slipped inside. It was dark, and she turned her flashlight on.

Another text came in.

_**Go to the roof**_

She was being _closely _watched. The thought did not bring her comfort.

She found the stairs and made her way up twenty-three floors, which she counted as she passed.

The door to the roof was unlocked, and she emerged onto it, sliding on the ski mask before she came in sight of any cameras that might be trained on the building. Lights from taller buildings illuminated the area, and she switched off the flashlight to walk to the edge. She could see the sidewalks beneath her, and the facades of the other buildings.

_**Opposite sidewalk, north corner. Be ready**_

She sighed and began setting up the gun, assembling it, loading it, and attaching the bipod. After inspecting it all, she sat back, and looked around.

Time to wait.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Earlier That Night  
**

Dick and Damian stood behind Bruce as he sat at the Batcomputer, Dick with his hands on his hips, Damian with arms crossed on his chest.

Both were in uniform, masks in place, while Bruce was still in his civilian clothes.

"So you think that Billy Numerous will show up here?" Dick leaned forward to peer at the screen.

"The odds are good." Bruce gave his oldest son a brief glance.

Dick squinted at the screen. "You don't play odds."

"Not usually, no, but this case is – frustrating. Besides, I had a tip."

Dick straightened, and glanced at Damian, whose eyes betrayed the tiniest flicker of uncertainty.

"A tip?" Damian dropped his arms.

Bruce stood, pushing his chair back. "The store just had a delivery of $60 million dollars worth of diamond jewelry."

Dick gave a low whistle, and Damian scowled.

"Why should they have so much jewelry on site?" Damian asked.

"Christmas is coming. They expect to sell it."

"That's a hell of a haul for Billy, if he's able to pull it off. That's a hell of a haul for _anyone_." Dick scratched the side of his head.

"Yes. _If_ Numerous is really involved, it would make him quite a bit richer." Bruce qualified. "I'm going to get dressed. Double check the car, please, Dick."

Dick nodded. "Sure thing." He watched Bruce walk off, and he turned to Damian. "Want to help, Little D?"

Damian gave his older brother a look of disgust. "More likely that you would help _me_, Grayson. After all, _I_ have a PhD in Engineering and Industrial Applied Mathematics." Even so, he turned to follow Dick to the car.

"What is that – piled high and deep?" Dick smiled at him as he opened the door to the Batmobile.

"Your sense of humor is pitiable." Damian opened the passenger door and leaned in to look at the dashboard.

"And your sense of honesty is..." Dick fumbled to find an eloquent rejoinder, but failed, and blew a heavy breath through his lips. "Whatever." He waved a hand at the youngest Wayne. "You know what I mean."

"No, I do _not_."

Dick leaned on the car. "I mean that you can cut the crap with me, Damian. I'm not impressed with your _degrees_, or your training, or your knowledge –"

"That would mean something if you had more _degrees_, training, or knowledge than I do."

Dick popped the trunk open and walked around to it. "I know you only have one PhD, kid, and that's in economics – _supposedly_. I've never seen the diploma, so it's probably not true. How does a nine year-old kid get a PhD in _anything_?"

"I was eight, and my mother _may _have threatened the president of the university – although that was _never proven_!" He pointed one gloved finger at Dick and opened the hood. "You're just jealous of my intellectual _superiority_."

Dick finished his inspection in the trunk and closed it. "Who pissed in your cocoa tonight?"

Damian looked at him sharply. "Do you think someone _urinated_ in my hot chocolate? It did have an odd taste." He slammed the hood. "It had to be _Pennyworth_. That disrespectful, old fool! I'll have his head."

Bruce walked up to the car, glorious in his uniform. "You'll have no one's head. _Pissing in _something is just an expression. Have you checked the caltrops?"

Damian glowered at Dick. "I was _going_ to." He moved to follow his father's order.

"Well, do it." He walked over to the driver's side.

Dick chuckled, and came around the car to pat Damian's shoulder, who shrugged it off peevishly. Dick leaned down close to Damian's ear. "Shotgun," he whispered, and fit his mask over his eyes.

Damian whirled around, glaring pugnaciously at Nightwing. "_I_ sit next to Father."

From within the car, they heard Bruce's voice. "Get in the back seat, Robin."

Damian shot Dick a look that promised future retribution, and put his own mask on. "It may not be very wise to sit with your _back_ to me, Grayson."

Dick pointed at his mask and grinned. "Nightwing. And I can take care of myself, so do your worst."

"Nightwing, stop baiting him and get in the car."

Robin climbed into the car, followed by his brother, who was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile.

The car began to move, and Bruce addressed them both. "We are _only _going to surveil Baker's Jewelry – _only _ _surveil_, unless we see something out of the ordinary. Robin – did you hear me?"

"Yes, I heard you, Father." His sullen voice came from behind his father.

"Bruce," Dick began.

"Tt. _Batman_." Damian tacitly reminded Dick about the use of names in the field.

"_Batman_," Dick repeated, "did you consult Catwoman on Numerous? She's had the most experience with him."

"Yes, but she really couldn't add much more than we already know."

"Huh. Okay. You know, this sounds a bit like Catwoman's usual targets. Sixty million dollars worth of diamonds is a _lot_ of money..." Dick trailed off.

"She's _not _involved." Batman said emphatically.

"It wouldn't be the first time." Dick continued. "Where did you get the information about the diamond delivery?"

"I repeat, she is _not _involved. Case closed."

Dick looked at his mentor for a long while, but, as usual, the Batman's facial expression, or lack thereof, gave away no clues as to the man's feelings. Dick finally shrugged. "Okay." He turned to look out the window as the streets of Gotham slid by.

Selina Kyle had long been a sore spot for Bruce Wayne – and for Batman. She was one of the few people in the world who knew that the two men were one and the same. She was also one of the few people in the world who could identify all the members of Bruce's family, and, for that reason, Dick had always felt uneasy about her. Bruce, however, had been involved with Selina off and on for the better part of ten years, and, although he was not unaware of her faults, the chief of which was her alarming tendency to _steal_ expensive things, he often showed her a level of leniency that he would never dream of extending to other criminals.

For her part, Selina seemed to enjoy tempting Bruce – tempting him into intimacy, and into complacency, and frequently, into unwitting collusion. She was, in fact, not only a _sore_ spot, but a _blind_ spot in Bruce's life, and Dick hoped that this was not another one of her schemes. She could easily have tipped Bruce off to this possible heist

so that she could more easily gain access to the Baker Jewelry store, or as a red herring to distract him from another job that she might be pulling. Either way, it was a bad situation, and Dick hoped that Bruce was right – that she was _not _involved – in any way.

Bruce pulled into an alley and turned to his sons. "From here we swing."

* * *

Devon rubbed her hands together and hunched her shoulders in an effort to warm herself against the cold November night. She wished again that she had brought a thicker jacket, as her grandmother had advised.

"Stupid, wise grandmother." She whispered to herself.

She brought her hands up to blow on them, through the gloves, but her breath did nothing to ease the aching coldness that was setting in. She changed position once, and again, and then tried sitting on her hands, although they were painfully crushed between her body and the rough surface of the roof, and she pulled them out again.

She felt so – _agitated_, and she did not know why, until a thought hit her. The caffeine pills! How many had she taken? Three? Wasn't that a triple dose? She held out her hand and looked at it, and thought that she could see a faint trembling.

"Damn it." She cursed softly. The last thing she needed was the jitters from too much caffeine. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.

She cradled her head in her hands for a moment. How accurate would her aim be if she had the caffeine shakes?

There was a hissing sound below her, and then a sound of something metallic hitting the concrete of one of the nearby buildings. She dropped down under the level of the wall and, cradling the gun against her body, she curled into a ball in the shadows.

She lay there for several minutes, the only sound the thudding of her heart in her ears. She wanted to raise her head to see what was happening, but the sound of a commotion interrupted her thoughts.

She heard brakes squealing, the sickening crunch of metal, and the shattering of glass.

She gave into desire, and lifted her head to peer over the side of the building. A car had crashed into the corner of the building opposite, and, with the building's alarms blaring, three figures swooped through the air below her and landed on the ground next to the vehicle.

Devon nearly dropped the gun in her shock. _Shit_! Batman, Robin, and _Nightwing _approached the vehicle.

_Damn it_!_ Really_? What the hell were _they_ doing here?

She pulled her phone from her pocket and typed a text to Larry's number.

_Batman is HERE_

It took only a few seconds for a response to come in.

_**He's the target**_

_What? I am NOT shooting at Batman_

The response was almost immediate.

_**Take the shot**_

She shook her head, cursing her incredibly lousy luck. Her damn target was Batman? She had to shoot at the most feared and vicious superhero – the one that scared _all_ the bad guys? And what the hell was Nightwing doing here? Did it have something to do with him hanging around her building? Did he _know _who she was, and what she was doing?

_No, Devon, calm down. He can't. He just **can't**. It's a coincidence – that's all it is_.

Another text came in.

_**Take the shot**_

Devon glanced at the phone briefly, then shoved it back in her pocket and set up the gun.

She saw Batman in her scope, but allowed herself to sweep towards Nightwing, resplendent in black, his arms corded, his thighs strong, his backside _incredible_. _Shit_, he was beautiful.

_Focus, you horny **idiot**_! _Now is **not **the time!_

She trained the gun on Batman again, and concentrated on keeping the gun steady. She intended to shoot wide by about a foot, above his right shoulder. She took a deep breath, tried to ignore hands shaking from an excess of caffeine and nerves, and with a quick prayer skyward that she would not accidentally kill someone, squeezed the trigger.

Just then, Robin stepped forward, and in a split second of horror, Devon was certain that she must have killed him. In fact, she let out a strangled gurgle – and the bullet passed between Batman and Robin and embedded in the shattered wall behind them.

She let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, God."

She reflected, for a moment, that an assassin had no right to expect answered prayers, but she was grateful nonetheless.

She took a glance over the parapet, and saw Batman, Nightwing and Robin had all sought safety out of range. They would be after her soon enough.

She had to disappear – very, very quickly.

She began disassembling the gun, intent upon putting as much distance between herself and her targets as possible.

Suddenly, there was the sound and flash of an explosion, and open mouthed, she stared at the trunk of the car spinning crazily into the air above her.

Huge, angry flames and smoke were billowing into the air, and then, simultaneously, she heard the sound of sirens in the distance.

She gripped the wall and leaned over it, looking desperately for the silhouettes of the three heroes, although she saw nothing other than the shell of the car quickly being consumed.

"That wasn't me. That wasn't me, was it? I didn't do that!" She whispered, and drew back.

She _really_ had to disappear now.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Earlier That Night  
**

Bruce shot out his jumpline, followed by his sons, and they made their way quickly over the streets of Gotham. Once or twice Dick glanced over at Batman, and tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a smile. When he was with Bruce, like this, he _never _wanted to give up being a hero. He never felt as alive as he did when he and his father were flying over the city, and having Damian with them only made things better, despite the youngest Wayne's churlish attitude.

They reached their destination, the roof of a tall building that faced the jewelry store, and Dick flicked his wrist to release his line.

The could see the jewelry store, in the corner of the building opposite, from one side, and Damian touched his mask to increase the optic zoom.

Dick leaned on the parapet. "So what are we looking for?"

"Anything out of the ordinary."

"And we'll wait until then?"

"Yes. We'll wait."

They did not have to wait long. A car came careening down the street, and came up over the sidewalk, heading for the jewelry store directly. A squeal of brakes was followed by the vehicle crashing through the front windows of the store, setting off the alarm.

"That's out of the ordinary." Dick noted, but Bruce and Damian were already gone.

"Fine. Don't wait." Nightwing grumbled, and swung down after them.

By the time he reached the pavement, Batman and Robin were already investigating the wreckage. Batman approached the driver's door and wrenched it open to reveal – no one. The driver's seat was empty.

Dick peered into the back windows. "No one back here."

"I don't like this." Bruce's voice was more gruff than usual.

"Father, I didn't take my eyes off the car for a second. I swear – no one jumped out!"

Bruce's lips thinned.

"_Could_ he have run away?" Dick asked.

"He's not fast, he's _numerous_." Damian sniffed. "Is it possible he's hiding?"

Dick, stung by Damian's sarcasm, responded in kind. "He's not tiny, he's _numerous_."

"_If _he was here at all. If anyone was here." Batman leaned inside the car.

Dick put his hands on his hips and circled the car from behind. "So why would someone send a driverless car into this jewelry store?"

"A distraction." Damian said confidently.

"Maybe." Bruce reached inside and pulled back the steering column cover. "It's remotely controlled."

"But why do it? To gain access to the diamonds?"

"Maybe. But, if that's the plan, why isn't anyone here to make a grab for the diamonds?" Bruce stroked his chin and walked around the car.

"Yeah, why aren't we covered in Numerouses? Numerous Numerouses, in fact?" Dick asked.

Robin followed his father around the back of the car. "Ha, ha. Very funny, Nightwing. Your sense of humor is _pathetic_."

There was a sudden, small impact in the wall of the jewelry store behind Batman and Robin, and Bruce turned, his mouth agape in fear.

"Robin!" He tackled his youngest son to the ground while Dick, realizing that a shot had been fired, dove over the hood of the car and slid behind the wreck, putting the vehicle between him and his partners. Batman dragged his son inside the rubble of the jewelry store, and peered into Robin's face. "Robin! Are you hit?"

Damian shook his head. "N – no. I'm fine."

"Nightwing! Are you hit?" Bruce called out to Dick.

"No! How's Robin?"

"Fine. Can you see the shooter?"

Dick touched his mask and his zoom optics, along with his night vision, were activated. He scanned the tops of the buildings nearby, and thought he saw movement on top of the First National Bank of Gotham building. "I think I see him." He started to launch a jumpline, to get to the assassin, but a sudden, insistent beeping diverted his attention. Crouching, he followed the sound to the trunk, and, still behind the car, pushed up the bent and crumpled trunk lid. He saw, attached to the exposed spare tire, a digital clock display – a display quickly counting down to zero!

"Bomb!" Nightwing cried out, and sprinted away from the car as Batman grabbed Robin's arm and ran in the opposite direction.

The explosion was deafening and powerful and _hot_, throwing Dick forward onto his knees. He skidded several feet, and was glad for his suit's protective joint coverings. He rolled onto his back and looked up into the sky to see the car's trunk flying dizzily into the air. A fireball shot up, and he scrambled to his feet, looking for Bruce and Damian.

They, too, had been thrown clear, and Dick reached them as they were getting to their feet.

"Are you okay?" Nightwing asked.

"No thanks to whomever sent us that bomb. Did you make the shooter?"

Dick heard sirens in the distance. "On the First National building."

"Go after him!" Bruce ordered.

"But –"

"That's an order!"

"Shit. You're sure you and Damian –?"

"Go!"

Dick did as he was told, and, ignoring the flaming wreckage, shot into the air, launching his jumpline to swing up to the roof of the bank building. It was deserted, as he knew it would be, but he found a spent shell casing and picked it up, looking at it for a moment before pocketing it. He would have it analyzed, later, at the Batcave. Right now, he had to find the piece (or pieces) of shit who had tried to blow up him and his family.

And God help them when he caught up with them, because they were going to _need_ divine intervention.

* * *

Devon disassembled the gun and packed up the pieces in her backpack. She had to get the hell out of here before anyone came after her, and before the police came. She must _not_ be caught. She must not! All of her plans, all of her hard work, would be for _nothing_ if she was

She took the stairs down from the roof two at a time, but knew that she could not run down _all_ twenty-three flights quickly enough to escape the Batman or his Robins.

She remembered seeing the construction chute against the east side of the building, and diverted from the stairwell. Dodging drywall and saw horses and piles of two by fours, she found the window obscured by the wide yellow tube.

Without thinking too much about the dangers inherent in _hurtling _twenty-odd floors down a plastic tube into a pile of construction debris, she jumped feet first into it.

The descent was instantaneous, and she spread out her arms and legs to halt her speed, so that, by the time she hit the open dumpster, she had slowed down considerably, although landing on a pile of discarded drywall was still painful enough that she saw white in her vision.

She lay there for the moment, the wind gone from her, and, finally, groaned. "God. That was a bad idea."

God was quiet as she sat up.

She rubbed her side. It hurt an unbelievable amount, and she struggled to her feet. She would deal with her injuries later.

She lifted the edge of the chute and looked around, and, not seeing nor hearing any pursuit, waded to the side of the dumpster. After making certain that no one was nearby, she flipped out and ran away down the alley, trying to ignore the pain in both her torso and her leg, the latter causing her to limp.

She wondered, as she ran, whether Nightwing, Batman, or Robin had been hurt, and prayed fervently that they had not. It was not as if she would have been responsible, anyway, she reasoned. She didn't have anything to do with the explosion. But, if she hadn't fired at them, they wouldn't have been so close to the car.

_Please, please, please let them be okay. **Please**_**. **She wasn't sure who she was begging, though.

She ran on for three blocks, frequently looking behind her, and, once, forced to press herself to a wall as a police cruiser shot by, sirens screeching and lights flashing. She finally stopped to catch her breath and, leaning against a wall, she pulled off the ski mask to assess her injuries; the ribs on her left side felt like they were on fire, and there was a blood around a hole in her jeans – probably from a nail. Thank goodness she was up to date on her tetanus shots.

Starting off again, she finally reached home, and, after checking to make sure that no superhero lurked in the shadows, she let herself in.

She dug her phone from her pocket, sat down on the stairs, and pulled up Larry's contact to type a text message.

_No one ever told me BATMAN was the target_

It took several seconds before a response came in.

_**You are on a need to know basis**_

_Well, I need to know if there's a chance I might be KILLED_

_**You were in no danger**_

_You tried to blow him UP! I'm not going to be involved in ANYONE'S murder._

_**You will do as you're told if you and your grandmother want to continue to breathe**_

Devon slammed her hand on the stair next to her, and ended the conversation. She put her head in her hands. How did she get mixed up in this madness? And, more importantly, how was she going to get out of it?

She gave a weary groan and stood, and limped slowly upstairs.

Her grandmother was pacing the kitchen when she walked in, and Devon desultorily threw the backpack on the table.

Marie rushed over to her granddaughter. "Are you all right? I heard sirens!"

Devon shrugged off her jacket, noting that her arm now hurt, as well.

"There was an explosion."

Marie gasped. "Were you hurt?"

Devon winced as she bent over to pull up a pant leg. "Not too much. I had to jump out a twenty story window, though."

Her grandmother gasped and put her hands to her mouth.

"It's not as bad as it sounds. I slid down a construction chute." She crossed her right ankle on her left knee to examine the back of her calf. There was dried blood near a small puncture wound. "I think I landed on a nail."

Her grandmother examined it. "It looks like it's healing already."

"At least I'm good at something." Devon gave a wry smile.

Marie patted her leg. "You're good at a lot of things. I'm sorry I don't tell you that often enough."

"Thanks, Grandma." She allowed herself to be folded into an embrace for a moment. "Is the news on yet?"

"I don't think so."

Devon nodded. "I'm going to take a shower. Call me when it come on."

"Why?"

"Because I want to find out if anyone was hurt in the explosion."

"Did you cause it?"

Devon shook her head. "No." She stood and, as she did, she gave a small gasp of pain.

Marie's brows drew down. "What's wrong?"

"I think I may have done something to one of my ribs."

Marie frowned. "Sit down."

Devon waved her off. "It's not a big deal. Really. I can deal with it."

"It may be cracked." Her grandmother argued, running light fingers over the affected area.

Devon pushed her hand away gently. "It's okay."

Marie gave a worried smile, and nodded. "I'll call you when the news comes on."

"Thanks, Grandma."

Devon dragged herself to the bathroom and undressed slowly, trying to guard her injuries. She examined her naked body in the mirror, and noticed dark bruises already starting to dot her skin, and abrasions on her back and legs.

She sighed, turned on the water, and stepped into the shower.

The warm water felt good on her exposed skin, warm and healing and cleansing. She lathered herself and her hair, and let the water run in rivulets over her face so that it mingled with her tears.

* * *

She returned to the living room just as the newscast was starting, and sat on the arm of her grandmother's chair as she watched the top story: a driverless car ran into a jewelry store and exploded, luckily injuring no one.

The heroes were not mentioned, and Devon breathed a sigh of relief. Surely, if they had been hurt, the news would have reported it.

""I'm going to bed. It's been a long day."

Her grandmother nodded. "Oh, I almost forgot to ask. Did the caffeine tablets work?"

Devon smiled slightly. "They were great, Grandma. Thanks."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hope that you liked the chapter. I have REALLY been in the mood to spend more time with Dick and Devon, and so I have been writing A LOT about them. They are fun to write, as are the rest of the Bat family. We will be seeing a LOT more of Jason in the coming chapters, as well as Damian. I particularly like writing for Damian - he's such an odd kid, and the words just flow for him. I know that he is a polarizing figure in the comics - people either love him or hate him. I am obviously one of the former - I love him! He is the perfect emotional foil for Dick - they are polar opposites in the family; Dick is fun-loving and affectionate, and Damian is a little bit sour and aloof. I love to put the two of them together because Dick wants so much to see Damian happy, and the only way he knows to do that is showering him with affection. If you are interested in reading some (canon) Dick/Damian interaction, check out the Batman & Robin comic series from 2007 - 2011, in which Dick is Batman and Damian becomes Robin. The best parts are not the plots but rather the evolution of the relationship between those two. I was actually kind of sad when Bruce took back the mantle of Batman and effectively separated Dick & Damian in the comics - in my opinion, Bruce and Damian are a little bit TOO alike to have a very engaging relationship, although seeing Bruce befuddled by fatherhood is fun!

By the way, I have had several questions about the pronunciation of Devon's name - it rhymes with "seven."

Also, for those of you who are not familiar with my chapter posting history, I try to post every Sunday, and, since I now have chapters 15 - 18 complete, I will DEFINITELY be posting each week for at least the next month, so you can depend on that!

Thanks to sunflower13 for betareading! I still have room for another betareader, if anyone if interested (knowledge of the Batfamily is VERY helpful!).

PLEASE REVIEW - this fic does NOT have many reviews, and I would really like YOUR opinion!


	15. Chapter 15

**Gotham City**

**The Next Day**

Dick rolled the bullet shell casing between his ungloved fingers thoughtfully, his feet propped up on the console of the Batcomputer.

"Dick, do you really want to be putting your DNA on that?"

Dick looked over at his father, who was dressing some abrasions on his arm.

They had come back to the Batcave after handing the jewelry store investigation over to the Gotham City Police Department. After a fruitless search for the would-be assassin, Dick had returned to the jewelry store to find Bruce extracting the misshapen sniper's bullet from the wall of the building.

Now, back at home, Alfred was treating Damian's minor injuries, while Bruce was dealing with his own. They had done a quick analysis on the bullet and casing, and found, among other things, no fingerprints at all – a setback, to be certain, in their identification of the shooter.

Dick gave Bruce a quick look, and laid the bullet casing on the console. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

"If you spent less time _thinking_, maybe you would have _caught _the assassin." Damian sneered at his brother as Alfred applied antibiotic ointment to a cut under his eye.

Dick colored. He had actually found no trace of the shooter other than the shell, and he wondered, idly, if Damian could have done better.

"I'm sure Dick did the best that he could." Bruce's voice was impassive, as usual.

"I did." Dick lowered his feet to the floor.

"Well, then you _are_ more pathetic than I thought."

"Enough, Damian. This in-fighting gets us nowhere."

Damian shot his brother a dark look. "Yes, Father."

Dick looked at Bruce closely. "This assassin is good, right?" He indicated the shell casing. "No fingerprints."

"Even an amateur knows to handle things with gloves, Grayson." Damian said with superiority.

"True. But this is from a .338 Lapua Magnum bullet. It's used in some of the best sniper rifles in the world."

Damian sniffed, but gave Dick his full attention as Alfred attended to a scraped elbow. "Like the ones used by the British and the Canadians. So?"

"So _who _can afford a gun that costs over $30,000?"

Bruce stopped and looked at his son. "A good assassin. A well-paid assassin."

"And how do you get to be a good assassin?" Dick asked, crossing his arms on his chest.

"By making the kills." Bruce's voice was thoughtful.

"Exactly. So why aren't we dead?"

"Because he missed." Bruce looked at Damian.

"Twice. He missed me three weeks ago, he missed you – or Damian tonight – and he wasn't very far away. Does that _sound_ like a good assassin to you?"

"So you think that this is all a ruse?" Damian's mouth drew down in a scowl.

Dick looked at him. "I don't know."

Bruce gave a small smile. "I'm proud of you, Dick. I was thinking along those lines as well."

"How long until you get some more information about the bullet?" Dick tried not to puff his chest in pride.

Bruce shook his head. "It was smashed – _very _smashed. We may not get any information on the barrel at all."

"So we may not be able to get a bead on the gun at all."

Alfred had finally finished cleaning up Damian, and the boy jumped off the treatment table. "Well, we may never be able to identify the manufacturer of the gun anyway if the cartridge was a wildcat."

"You're right. If it's a wildcat cartridge, it's been modified, and so the gun has to be custom." Dick reasoned.

Bruce cut in. "We might be able to get a line on a custom gun." He turned to Alfred. "How quickly do you think we can get the forensic ballistics from the bullet, Alfred?"

"If we can't figure it out here, I'm afraid, Master Bruce, we may have to get Lucius Fox involved."

Bruce turned pointedly to Dick. "Well, then, Dick, you may be carrying a little something extra in your brown bag to work tomorrow."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Day**

Devon was trying to act like it was a normal day – like she was just a college student with a job and no boyfriend. Like she had not tried to kill someone last night.

It was difficult, though. _Very _difficult. When she woke up and her ribs felt like they were on fire, she wanted to turn over and bury her head under her pillow and continue to sleep, but, instead, she got up, swallowed four ibuprofen pills, and went downstairs to start the day. When cops came into the diner to eat breakfast, she panicked, although, outwardly, the only betrayal of her nerves was a slight shaking of her hands. When a motorcycle revved outside, she wanted to dive behind the counter, but she gripped hard onto the edge of it instead. When the text alert on her phone buzzed, she was convinced that it was Larry's employers giving her another assignment, but it was just a sale alert from Macy's, which she deleted.

So when Dick Grayson came into the restaurant, alone, she was deliriously happy to see him. Someone truly _normal_ – someone who could make her feel _normal_, too.

Her smile, when she greeted him, was wide, and genuine.

"Hey, Dick. It's good to see you! By yourself?" She looked out the window, expecting to see Wally, or Dick's other friend, the one who had accompanied him on the day that she had met him.

He returned the smile, and she was struck, again, by his physical _perfection. God, he'll have beautiful children some day, s_he thought, incongruously.

"Hi, Devon. Yeah. Just me by my lonesome."

She laughed, although it hurt her injured ribs. "I doubt you're ever _lonesome_, Dick. Counter or booth?"

"If I say 'booth,' could I convince you to sit with me?"

She shook her head regretfully. "No. Sorry. Kind of busy."

"Counter it is, then."

She led him there, and, going around to the other side, gave him a menu. He took it, and, as he opened it, he gave her a sheepish look. "I wasn't sure what my greeting from you would be." He confessed.

She was puzzled. "Why?"

"I did almost run you over the other day."

She chuckled as she poured him a glass of water. "It's okay. I was – mad then, but it was mainly because I was a little shaken up. I know you didn't do it on purpose."

"I really didn't. I'm sorry, though. It must have been scary."

She shrugged, and leaned on the counter near him, which relieved the pressure in her chest, and brought her closer to him. "I'm over it."

He looked at her seriously. "I'm glad."

She was taken, then, by his eyes, deep and so _blue_, and – soulful. That was the only word she could think of to describe them, and she thought that she could gaze into those eyes for hours, and, were it not for her _predicament_, she would.

She would do a lot more with him than _gaze_, though, if given the chance.

Which she would not be given.

Life was so unfair.

She sighed, and straightened. "Let me know when you're ready to order."

Dick, whose gaze had become somewhat unfocused, seemed to snap back to reality. "What? Oh, yeah, right. Okay. Yeah, I'm ready." He looked down at his menu briefly. "Uh, ham and eggs, with – hash browns, I guess, and, um, whole wheat pancakes. Yeah." He grinned at her suddenly. "Got to eat healthy, you know."

She smiled back. It was really hard to be in a bad mood when Dick was around.

"Oh, and coffee. A _really _big cup. I've got to be on my toes today."

She grabbed the largest mug from beneath the counter and poured him some. "Oh, yeah? Why?" She slid the cup to him, and he wrapped his hands around it gratefully.

"I'm working at my dad's company now, and I have to go in today."

"Wow. So that actually happened, huh?"

He grimaced. "Not all of it. Me working _there_, yes. Him changing _his_ life, not so much."

She laughed. "It's a case of 'do as I say, not as I do.'"

"Yeah. It seems to be."

They fell into companionable silence for a moment, and she was content just to look at him.

The ringing of the bell at the pass ended the moment, and she was brought back to the present. "I'll – put your order in." She gave him an awkward smile, and went to the pass window.

George, the cook, stood there with a disgruntled look on his face. "I was wondering if you were _ever _gonna pick up the plates for table 14."

She gave him an embarrassed smile as she put Dick's order in and picked up the waiting meals. "Sorry, George."

"Hey, is that your boyfriend?" He indicated Dick with a nod of his head.

Devon ignored his question, and hurried off with the plates. There was _no _way she was going to answer that question.

She took the plates to table fourteen, keeping her arms close to her chest. Everything seemed to hurt less that way. She cleaned up the dishes at a couple of empty tables, and refilled some coffee cups. When she came back to the counter, she poured Dick coffee, as well.

"Everything good?" She asked with a smile, noting the look of concern on his face.

"Yeah. Are you all right?" His voice was concerned, as well.

She gave him a quick look. _Crap_! Distracted, she continued pouring until the cup was just a little too full. "Yeah. I'm fine." She hoped she sounded convincing. "Why – why do you ask?"

He was watching her closely, and she felt exposed. "You're limping a little, and you seem to be moving – awkwardly." He said, and, although it seemed as if he were reaching out to her, he placed his hand flat on the counter.

She blushed – she had hoped that her injuries weren't obvious. So much for trying to carry on as if nothing were wrong. "Oh. That. It's – nothing." She scrambled to come up with a plausible lie.

He didn't believe her, and it showed in his face.

She looked at him for a long moment. _Crap! _ _Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! _

"Fine. You're right. I – I don't want to tell you, though." _Think, Devon, think_!

"Why?"

"Because." She improvised. "It's – _embarrassing_."

He was silent, and, her mind raced. What could she say? What could she tell him that was believable, that would explain her obvious injuries?

Her eyes never left him as she ran through answers in her mind, and, finally, she thought of something.

_Time for an Oscar-worthy performance._

_A_fter watching him for several seconds, her shoulders slumped. "I – fell down the stairs carrying a box." She nodded, stealing a look at him. "Yes. I am _that _clumsy."

"Were you badly hurt?" He sounded sympathetic.

She shook her head. "No. I fell. No big deal."

"Did you go to the hospital?"

_Hospital? No! No hospital! _"No. Don't be silly. I'm fine. I'm already on the mend." She smiled at him, hoping that was the end of it.

He was silent for a long time, then took out his wallet. "Hey. I've got a friend. She's a doctor." He opened the wallet and extracted a business card, which he handed to her. "Her name is Leslie Thompkins, and she runs a free clinic here in Gotham."

She reached out slowly and took the card from him. "Thanks." She said quietly, and slipped the card into her pocket. She was touched by his concern, but she knew that she would never visit the doctor he suggested. There was too much that this Thompkins woman could find out.

The cook banged on the bell at the kitchen window several times, and Devon turned towards it, then back to Dick, with an apologetic smile. "Got to go – do my job." She smiled tremulously. "Thanks again – for the card."

She walked to the pass with both Dick and George watching her – for different reasons.

"Hey, Devon, this here plate's for your boyfriend." He wagged his eyebrows at her, and she shushed him frantically.

"_George_!" She whispered. "_Be quiet_! _He'll hear you_!"

The cook grinned. "Why? Doesn't he know he's your _boyfriend_?"

"He's _not my boyfriend_!" She gave him a fulminating look, took the plate, and walked it over to Dick. She smiled as she put it down.

"Syrup?" She asked.

"Please."

She retrieved a syrup jug from behind the counter, and brought it over to him.

"Thanks." He smiled, and she turned to go, but before she moved away, his hand snaked out and took her wrist.

She turned back to him.

"Hey." He smiled winningly at her, gentling his grip, and he artfully turned her hand into his so that his fingers were entwined with hers.

_Clever boy_, she thought.

"There's a _Lord of the Rings _triple feature at the La Scala Theater this Saturday. It's their grand reopening. Would you like to go – no pressure – just, you know, as _friends_?"

She looked down at their hands, entangled, and thought how _good _it would be to do just that. To go with him, to be _normal _for just a day. To spend time with Dick; he was so uncomplicated, so _easy _to be with – so _damn _sexy.

"Isn't that like _nine _hours of movies?" She asked, her eyes narrowed.

"There's an intermission – or two. Come on, we'll gorge on popcorn and nachos and SnoCaps. It'll be great. My treat."

It was _so _tempting.

Too tempting.

A smile spread across her face. "Okay. Yeah, sure."

His smile widened, if possible, and he pulled her towards him slowly, until he was close enough to lean into her. "We'll have a lot of fun." He whispered in her ear.

He released her wrist and sat back, a satisfied smile on his face.

_Oh, Dick, _she thought. _You **are** trouble._

She walked back to the pass to grab another plate, where George stood grinning at her.

"So, not your boyfriend, huh?"

She blushed. "Shut up, George."

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**Earlier That Morning**

The insistent ringing of Dick's cell phone brought him, finally, reluctantly, from sleep. He had been dreaming, to the best of his recollection, of Devon, and, as there was no clothing involved in this dream, he was loathe to leave it.

However, he knew that, in his sleep-addled mind, any call coming in the middle of the night would be important, and he finally climbed from slumber and fumbled for the phone. Bruce's contact was displayed, and Dick was instantly awake.

"Bruce?"

"I need you to come by the house and get that bullet for Lucius to take a look at."

Dick rubbed his face sleepily. "Two days in a row."

"What?"

He smiled, his forearm over his eyes. "You've called me on the phone two days in a row. I usually go _weeks _without talking to you on the phone unless it's '_Nightwing, your presence is required_.'"

"Are you telling me not to call you?"

"No, I'm saying it's great. Be careful, you might make this a habit – talking to me everyday. Although maybe you could call in the_ mornings_?"

"Dick, it's 6:30. I thought you'd be up by now."

Dick rolled over and looked at the clock next to his bed. Bruce was right. "I overslept. I don't even remember hitting the snooze button."

"We had a late night."

Dick sat up in bed. "Yeah. We did."

"I'll see you in a half hour." He clicked off, and Dick was left looking at the phone. He fell back on to his pillow.

"Why does it always have to be a half hour with him?"

Thirty minutes later, he was turning into the Wayne Manor driveway. Damian's dog, Titus, a Great Dane, bounded out to meet him, and, as Dick alighted from the car, he gave the dog an affectionate rub on the head.

"Hey, Titus, old boy. Where's your master?"

"Right here." Damian appeared as if conjured, and Dick had to resist the impulse to jump. The youngest Wayne was dressed casually, in sweat pants and a t-shirt, apparently not bothered by the cold.

Dick grinned at his brother. "You love doing that to me."

Damian's face betrayed only the slightest trace of a smile. "You make it too easy."

Dick threw an affectionate arm around his youngest brother's shoulder. "How you doing this morning, little bird?"

Damian allowed himself, for a brief moment, to be embraced, then squirmed out of Dick's hold. "Fine. Why wouldn't I be?" They started for the front door of the house.

"Oh, I don't know. Because you were almost shot and blown up last night?"

"Tt. I suffered nothing more than a few contusions and abrasions."

"Well, good. Where's Bruce?" They entered the massive foyer.

"In his study."

Dick turned for that room. "Alfred?"

"At the market."

"Breakfast?"

"In my stomach." Damian pulled open the door to his father's private office.

"Shit. I didn't eat anything yet."

"There's always cold cereal." The answer came from Bruce, sitting at his computer. "_Several_ of your favorite kinds, in fact."

Dick grimaced. "I was in the mood for something more – _substantial_."

"Well, make it yourself – or grab something on the way to the office." Bruce was disinterested in Dick's meal dilemma.

Dick looked thoughtful. "I could do that."

Damian rolled his eyes. "_Really_, Grayson. You act as if breakfast is the most important activity of your entire day."

"Ah, well, it _is _the most important _meal_ of the day."

"You are the most _carnal_ person that I have ever met." Damian said with distaste.

Dick and Bruce both looked at him in astonishment, and Dick burst into laughter. "You better be careful what you call me, little brother. Some people might get the wrong idea!"

Damian's face flamed red. "What?" Comprehension sunk in, and he looked at Dick with horror. "That is _disgusting_!"

"Hey! _You're _the one who called me _carnal_!"

"_Carnal _also means 'absorbed with crude bodily pleasures and appetites.'"

Dick blinked at him. "Oh, okay. But _who _knows that?"

"_I _do!"

Dick laughed again. Damian's face grew redder, and his hands turned into fists.

"Are you two finished? I'd like to have a coherent conversation with Dick before he goes." Bruce gave both his sons a stern look, and, although Damian visibly calmed, Dick continued to chuckle.

Bruce handed Dick a small plastic box. "We couldn't make out the ballistics. I've already talked to Lucius, and he thinks he has a man who can get us some details – a man who won't ask any questions."

Dick tucked the box inside a jacket pocket. "All right, then. I'll give it to Lucius, and – I'll get some Wayne Enterprises work done while I'm at it."

"How's that going?" Bruce's attention was back on the computer again.

Dick sat on the edge of his father's desk. "Okay, I guess. I mean, the company's stock hasn't taken a nosedive, so it appears that I haven't done any permanent damage."

"Give it time." Damian sniffed, his arms across his chest.

Bruce shook his head in exasperation, but said nothing.

Dick retaliated by grabbing Damian around the middle and planting a loud, slurpy kiss on his cheek. "I love you, too, Little D."

* * *

Dick departed not long after that, and headed into the city with his assignment.

He was still hungry, and he had an idea where he wanted to go for breakfast.

He had not see Devon since he almost hit her with his car, and he wanted to see if she had forgiven him. He didn't know why it was so important to him that she should – she had already made it _very _clear that they couldn't be involved. Still, the _thought _that she might be angry with him, or _hate _him – he couldn't bear it.

If he had looked closely within himself, he would have realized that he still had hope that she would relent – that she would reconsider her decision – even though, rationally, he knew that it was a slim chance. And he also knew that he shouldn't _pressure _her – it smacked a little of bullying.

However, that was not the only reason why he wanted to see her; he needed to get an idea whether she had seen him the night that he had almost fallen from the tree outside her window – find out if she suspected anything at all.

Besides, he had only ever been to the diner for lunch, and he had read, on the menu, that they had the best pancakes in the city.

* * *

He parked his car outside the diner, and, whistling, walked to the entrance. He knew he had no right to be this happy – after all, someone had tried to kill him and his family _again_ last night. Still, all of _that_ belonged to the world of Nightwing, and this was Dick Grayson's world – a world in which the most important things were getting to his job on time and getting laid by a pretty girl.

He looked at his watch. He was definitely going to fail at the first – maybe he could be more successful at the second.

He saw her through the window of the diner, and he stopped to watch her. She smiled at an old couple in one of the booths, and filled a coffee cup for a business man, whose eyes lingered on her breasts too long. Dick glared at him, and walked purposefully into the diner.

Devon saw him almost immediately, and came over to him, a huge smile on her face, and he was struck by her beauty. When she smiled, _truly _smiled, a small dimple appeared in one cheek, and her face lit up with a sort of glow that he really couldn't even describe. It made him feel good, though, that _he _was the one who brought that glow to her face. He could think of a couple of other ways that he could bring her a glow.

"Hey, Dick. It's good to see you! By yourself?" She looked out the window, as if expecting to see someone else.

He smiled back and watched as she unconsciously lifted a loose tendril of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. His fingers itched to reach out and do that for her, but he controlled himself.

"Hi, Devon. Yeah. Just me by my lonesome."

She laughed. "I doubt you're ever _lonesome_, Dick. Counter or booth?"

_You have __**no **__idea_, he thought. Aloud, he said, "If I say 'booth,' could I convince you to sit with me?"

She shook her head, regret on her features. "No. Sorry. Kind of busy."

"Counter it is, then." He could interact with her more easily there.

She led him to the counter, and, going around to the other side, gave him a menu. He took it, and, as he opened it, he gave her a sheepish look. "I wasn't sure what my greeting from you would be." He confessed, toying with the edge of the menu..

She looked puzzled. "Why?"

"I did almost run you over the other day."

She chuckled as she poured him a glass of water, and the sound of her laughter rolled over him like warm honey.

"It's okay. I was – mad then, but it was mainly because I was a little shaken up. I know you didn't do it on purpose."

He gave an inward sigh of relief. She _didn't _hate him. "I really didn't. I'm sorry, though. It must have been scary."

She shrugged, and leaned on the counter near him. "I'm over it."

He looked at her seriously, trying to keep his eyes off her exposed cleavage. _God! I'm as bad as that other guy__ who was ogling her_. "I'm glad."

Still, despite his self-disgust, he could not drag his eyes from her face. Flushed and rosy, he imagined this is how her face would look after lovemaking, and his mind started to wander. He could imagine reaching out and dragging his finger along her collarbone, and kissing her along it, and moving up to her neck, to the point where the pulse beat under her skin, his lips pressing against it, feeling the quickening of her heart in that telltale spot...

She sighed, then, and straightened, and he snapped back to attentiveness. "Let me know when you're ready to order."

"What? Oh, yeah, right. Okay. Yeah, I'm ready." He gave the menu only a cursory look. He would eat cardboard if she offered it to him. "Uh, ham and eggs." He latched on to the first thing on the menu. "With – hash browns, I guess, and, um..."

Pancakes. He wanted pancakes. "Whole wheat pancakes. Yeah." He grinned at her suddenly. "Got to eat healthy, you know."

She smiled back.

"Oh, and coffee." He was still kind of sleepy. "A _really _big cup. I've got to be on my toes today." He didn't want Lucius to think that he wasn't taking his job seriously.

She brought out a large mug from beneath the counter and poured him some coffee. "Oh, yeah? Why?"

She slid the cup to him, and he wrapped his hands around it gratefully. "I'm working at my dad's company now, and I have to go in today."

"Wow. So that actually happened, huh?" Her eyes grew large.

He grimaced, thinking of all that Bruce wanted to do. "Not all of it. Me working _there_, yes. Him changing _his_ life, not so much."

She laughed. "It's a case of 'do as I say, not as I do.'"

He gave a small smile. "Yeah. It seems to be."

They fell into companionable silence for a moment, and he was content just to look at her.

The ringing of a bell, by the diner's cook, ended the moment, and he was brought back to the present. He watched her shake off her own lethargy. "I'll – put your order in." She gave him an awkward smile, and walked away, and, as she walked, he noticed a slight limp.

He frowned, and continued to watch her. In fact, now that he was paying attention, he noticed that she was favoring her left side, keeping her arm very close to her body when carrying plates, and, when busing tables, she leaned stiffly over them.

She came back to him with a refill for his cup. "Everything good?" She asked with a smile.

"Yeah. Are you all right?" His face showed his concern.

She gave him a quick look, and continued pouring until the cup was just a little too full. "Yeah. I'm fine. Why – why do you ask?"

He watched her closely. "You're limping a little, and you seem to be moving – awkwardly." He started to reach for her hand, but, deciding against it, he laid his hand on the counter.

A blush came to her face. "Oh. That. It's – nothing."

He didn't believe her, and it showed in his face. If there's one thing he knew, it was when someone was recovering from injuries.

She looked at him for a long moment. "Fine. You're right. I – I don't want to tell you, though."

"Why?" In his mind, he was imagining injuries that happened to those in _his _line of work.

"Because. It's – _embarrassing_."

He imagined her taking a prat fall on a banana peel.

She watched him for several seconds, and her shoulders slumped. "I – fell down the stairs carrying a box." She nodded. "Yes. I am _that _clumsy."

"Were you badly hurt?" He was concerned – the thought of her injured troubled him more than he cared to investigate.

She shook her head. "No. I fell. No big deal."

"Did you go to the hospital?"

"No. Don't be silly. I'm fine. I'm already on the mend." She smiled at him.

He looked at her face, and could tell that she was hiding something. Then, it came to him. She hadn't gone to the hospital because she couldn't afford it.

He felt ashamed, suddenly. He _never _needed to worry about money, and 99.9% of the entire world _did_. He never even _thought _about money. When he needed something, he got it. If he got sick, he went to see Leslie Thompkins.

Leslie Thompkins! Of course.

He took out his wallet. "Hey. I've got a friend. She's a doctor." He opened the wallet and extracted a business card, which he handed to her. "Her name is Leslie Thompkins, and she runs a free clinic here in Gotham."

She reached out slowly and took the card from him. "Thanks." She said quietly, and slipped the card into her pocket.

The cook banged on the bell at the kitchen window several times, and Devon turned towards it, then back to Dick with an apologetic smile. "Got to go – do my job." She smiled tremulously. "Thanks again – for the card."

Dick watched her walk to the kitchen pass window, where the cook set the finished meals, and the cook said something to her – something that didn't please her, because he could hear her audible attempts to silence him, and the cook's jolly laughter.

It seemed like the cook was teasing her, and Dick wondered why.

She and the cook exchanged more words, and Devon grabbed two plates and walked back over to him, a smile pasted on her face.

"Syrup?" She asked, setting the plates before him.

Dick looked down at the massive amount of food and smiled at her. "Please."

As she retrieved a syrup jug from behind the counter, he had an idea – an idea to see her again – outside of her job and school.

She brought the syrup to him, and he smiled. "Thanks." She turned to go, but his hand snaked out and took her wrist. It was slim and fragile, and his heart jumped at the simple touch.

She turned back to him.

"Hey." He smiled , and turned her hand into his so that his fingers were entwined with hers.

He felt her pulse pound, and he tightened his grip on her fingers. "There's a _Lord of the Rings _triple feature at the La Scala Theater this Saturday. It's their grand reopening. Would you like to go – no pressure – just, you know, as _friends_?"

She looked down at their hands, entangled, and back up at him, her eyes narrowed. "Isn't that like _nine _hours of movies?"

She was considering it!

"There's an intermission – or two. Come on, we'll gorge on popcorn and nachos and SnoCaps. It'll be great."

She looked at him a hint of suspicion, and was silent a long time. A smile finally spread across her face. "Okay. Yeah, sure."

_Finally_! His smile widened, and he pulled her towards him slowly, until he was close enough to lean into her. She smelled of lavender and vanilla, and he wanted to take hold of her chin and kiss her. "We'll have a lot of fun." He whispered in her ear, then released her wrist and sat back, a satisfied smile on his face.

She gave him a startled look, and, with a quick smile, was gone.

The diner soon became _very _busy, so Devon had little time for Dick other than refilling his coffee cup. Still, that did not stop him from watching her – surreptitiously, of course. Hooded eyes over his mug, pretending to scratch his neck so that he could watch her walk away. He particularly liked the view of her – the sight of the gentle slope of her rear in the form-fitting uniform never failed to please him.

She brought him his check and he pulled a twenty out of his wallet. "I don't need anything back."

"Dick, you have to stop doing that."

He smiled at her with a twinkle in his eye and folded his arms. "What? Stop being a big tipper? I appreciate the service you provide."

Her eyes widened. "That sounds weird."

His smile faded. "Yeah. It did – a little. Well, you know what I mean."

She gave a timid smile, which he found very endearing. "I do. Thanks. I – appreciate it."

He stood. "So, I'll pick you up Saturday at, say ten? The first movie starts at ten-thirty."

She looked panicked. "I'll meet you there."

"Oh. Okay. Sure. Meet you at the box office?"

"Sounds good."

"It's a date, then."

"It's _not_ a date." She sounded exasperated.

He shrugged. "Okay. Whatever you say." _It's __**so**__ a_ _date_, he thought._ "_I'll see you then."

She smiled. "Okay. Have a good day at work."

His own eyes widened. "Shit! What's the time?" He looked at his watch. He was already a half-hour late. "I've got to go. Bye." He nearly leaned over for a good-bye kiss, but caught himself in time, and, with a reddened face, took his leave.

* * *

Devon watched him go thoughtfully. He had looked like he was going to kiss her. Like he was going to lean forward and grab her shoulder and give her a quick, affectionate, warm kiss. Like it was something he did everyday. Like they were a – _couple_.

And, had he done it, she would have kissed him back.

_Shit_! This was bad. This was very, very bad. She could imagine a future with him, and she thought that he could, too.

But a future together was one thing that they would never have.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hope that you liked the chapter - I did a lot of research on guns, and found out many interesting facts, including that some rifles, such as one particular type of sniper rifle used by the Brits in Afghanistan, cost over $30,000! That's more than my car cost! I'm not a gun person, by any means, so I hope that I conveyed all of the information coherently.

Some of the next chapters will include Dick and Devon's "non" date to the "Lord of the Rings" movies. They seem the type of film that Dick would like!

Regarding this story as a whole. I have recently written a lot for this fic, and I am currently on chapter 19!

Coming soon: Dick and Devon get A LOT closer!

Also, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! Thank you! : )


	16. Chapter 16

**Gotham University**

**That Morning**

Wally walked down the hall of the science building, whistling merrily, swinging his laptop bag gently. He came to the door he was looking for, and admired the name on it: _Wallace West. _He gave a satisfied sigh, and pulled out a key ring. He fumbled with it, and, finding the key he wanted, he fit it into the lock. The cylinder did not turn, however, and he tried another key. Still no success. A third key went into the lock, but no luck.

He groaned. Great. He didn't have the right key. This was the first official day of Wally's academic office hours – Dr. Stapp, the professor for whom Wally was a teaching assistant, was out of town until after Thanksgiving, and Wally was taking all of the professor's academic support duties. Wally was in charge – and he was _very_ excited about it.

But now, he couldn't even get _into_ his new office.

He stared in disappointment at the door, and an idea came to him. He looked around casually, and put his laptop down. Maybe – just this once, he could _vibrate _through the door. Vibrating through solid objects was not something that came easily to Wally – as a teenager, most attempts resulted in nosebleeds, and, although he had more less successfully vibrated several times since leaving the Team, he was not sure how wearing civilian clothes would affect it.

He looked down at his hooded sweatshirt. That would have to go. He started to pull it off, and, invariably, his shirt began to come off with it.

Enveloped in a hoody that was only halfway off, he did not notice the woman coming up behind him. Seeing Wally thus incapacitated, she walked over, and, with only a few moves, had the hoody tied in a bow around his head, also imprisoning his arms.

"Hey!" A muffled voice came through the layers of thick fabric. "What the hell?"

Barbara laughed, and released her friend from his cloth prison.

"Sorry, Wally. I couldn't resist."

He pulled the sweatshirt off and smoothed his hair down. "_Thanks_, Babs." His voice was sarcastic.

"Any time." She leaned against the wall. "So. _Office hours_, huh?"

"Yeah." He grinned at her suddenly. "My first day in my _new _office."

"I know."

He looked puzzled. "How did you know?"

"You have no secrets from me, Wally West." At his look of alarm, she chuckled. "Artemis told me."

"Oh." He looked at the door darkly. "I won't have any office hours at all if I can't get in this door."

"Tried a key?"

"Ha. Ha. Funny. Of course I tried a key. The secretary must've given me the wrong one."

"So ask her for the right one."

"Her day off."

"So you thought, _maybe_, that you could vibrate through the door."

He looked sheepish. "I might have thought that."

"And you thought that the _hoody_ was an obstacle? What about the rest of your clothes? You would have vibrated right out of them."

He looked incensed. "Yeah, well, I didn't say it was a _well _thought plan."

She smiled and pushed off the door. "Lucky for you I came by."

"Why? Do you happen to have a Flash uniform in your purse?"

"Better." She reached into her purse and pulled a small piece of black plastic.

"I'm going to wear a twisty tie?"

"No, numbskull. I'm going to break into your office with this."

"You're going to get into my office with a twisty tie?"

"A skeleton key, genius. Out of the way and let a Bat rescue you."

Wally made a flourish towards the door and stepped away. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"And won't be the last." Checking around her to make sure there was no one in the hall, she crowded up against the knob, and, slipping the skeleton key in the lock, had the door open in less than ten seconds.

"Voila." She pushed the door open dramatically.

"Babs, you're a lifesaver." He picked up his laptop and entered his office, flipping on the lights.

She gave a look of mock confusion. "I know. I _just_ said that."

Wally laid his computer on his desk and opened his arms expansively. "How do you like it?"

_It _was an office barely six feet by six feet, with a desk, three chairs, and a bookcase wedged into it. A small window set far up in the wall brought meager sunlight within. A struggling ivy sat on the high sill.

"It's – uh – _great_! Really great!" Barbara said with feigned enthusiasm.

Wally did not notice it. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?" He smiled at Barbara. "And _you_ are my first student – although you're not actually _my _student, and, you know, you aren't _actually _a student at all. So – what are you doing here? Oh!" He snapped his fingers. "You're applying for grad school here! I _knew _it! I knew you couldn't leave Gotham." Barbara had graduated with her bachelor's degree early, thanks to a plethora of Advanced Placement credit and summer internships, and was taking a gap year before starting graduate school.

She sat down in one of the chairs. "Oh, no. I _can_ leave Gotham. Believe me. No. I'm applying to Columbia and Cornell and Carnegie-Mellon."

"Only 'C' colleges, huh?"

"Now _you're _being funny."

He grinned and started setting up his laptop. "Still want to do an advanced degree in library sciences?"

"I shouldn't because it's a dying field?" Barbara had heard this argument before.

"No. Because it's _boring_."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. And I don't happen to find chemical interactions especially interesting."

"You would if it helped you blow the door off a villain's safehouse."

"Touché. You keep playing with chemicals and I'll keep the Dewey Decimal System in line, and we'll both be happy."

"Sounds good." He rearranged the phone and straightened pens in a mug on his desk, looking at them both critically. "Do you think that's a good place to keep my pens?"

Barbara lifted her brows. "I think I don't care."

Wally's eyes slid to her and back to his task. "So Artemis told you where I was, and you hunted me down. Not that I'm not glad to see you, Babs, but it's not like you to just sit around with me and chew the fat. Unless Dick is also involved." He looked at her hopefully. "Is Dick also involved?"

She put her feet up on the desk. "Am I not interesting enough without Dick?"

"No," Wally said slowly, trying to backpedal his way out of the quagmire, "I just thought – _maybe_ – that you and Dick might be, you know, back together, or something?"

She lowered her feet to the ground and sighed. "No. We're not back together. That ship has _long_ since sailed, Wally. Dick and I are a thing of the past."

"Oh." Wally looked surprised. "Okay, then. Sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you are not a fully-rounded, _fascinating _person in your own right – without Dick."

"Thank you." She nodded.

"So – why are you here?"

"It's Dick."

Wally blinked at her for several seconds. "I'm confused. So you're not here about Dick – except you _are_."

Barbara sighed and leaned forward. "Look. Forget what I said earlier – except the part about me _not_ getting back together with Dick. That's true."

"I have _no_ idea what we're talking about here."

"Look, _I'm _not getting back together with Dick, but this _is_ about him."

"What about him?"

"I'm worried about him."

"About _Dick_?"

"Yes."

Wally looked off into the distance. "Oh." His eyes snapped back to Barbara. "Why?"

"Why?" Barbara sat up straight. "He's acting – strange."

"Strange?" Wally's eyes shifted to his keyboard.

Barbara frowned at him. "Yeah. Strange. He's been lying about where he goes, he's been patrolling in Gotham a _lot _lately – _and_ he hasn't been calling me to patrol with him, _plus, _he's not answering _or _returning my calls, _and _when he texts me he's – _vague_, _and_ he's become – withdrawn."

She looked at Wally. "And secretive – more so than usual."

Wally gulped, glad that Barbara could not hear the thudding of his heart. He did _not _want to tell Barbara about Devon. It was true that he was worried about Dick, too, but Dick would _not _want Wally to tell his ex-girlfriend about his current crush, and Wally did not want to betray Dick's confidence. "He seems fine to me."

Barbara looked at him keenly. "You're lying."

"What? No I'm not!"

"Wally. Come on. I can tell when you're lying."

He closed his laptop and faced Barbara. "Look, Babs, if you want to know what's going on with Dick, ask _him_."

"I'm asking _you_."

"And I'm not telling you. It's not my business. It doesn't concern _me_. It concerns _you_ and Dick."

"I just want to be sure he's not in any trouble. Or turning into Bruce. Because, I tell you, I cannot take another Bruce in my life."

"He's not in any trouble that I know of. But if you want to know any more than that, _you're _going to have to talk to Dick about it."

"But you're sure he's okay? I mean, it's not like him to just _cut _me off like that."

Wally looked at her like she was simple. "Really, Barbara? You _dumped _him –."

"I did _not _dump him!"

"He _felt_ like you dumped him."

She looked away petulantly.

"What else do you expect him to do, anyway? He's not going to be your best guy friend anymore. It was _hard _for him to get over you – _really_ hard. And now he has. So you have to let him move on with his life."

Barbara was taken aback. "Oh. I – I didn't – _know_ that he – felt like _that_. I thought everything was okay." She stood suddenly. "If you see him – or talk to him, tell him that I'd – like to see him."

Wally nodded. "Sure thing, Babs."

She walked to the door. "Um, thanks. Have a good day." She paused at the door for a moment. "I like your office." She gave a weak smile, and was gone.

* * *

This was the best day that Dick Grayson had had in a _long _time. He had had a good visit with Bruce and Damian earlier, he had had a hearty breakfast, he had gotten to spend some time with Devon, _and_ he had even gotten a date with her. True, there had been that little incident in which he had almost leaned over and kissed her goodbye, but, he hadn't, and a crisis of embarrassment had been averted – well, nearly.

He didn't know why he had slipped, but he had felt this _connection_ with Devon that he never recalled having with any other woman – not even Barbara. It thrilled him and vaguely disturbed him at the same time, and he wasn't exactly sure what to do. He was pretty certain that he could find himself serious about Devon if she would only let him. He could even see himself giving up the life to be with her. If he thought about it, however, he probably would have given up the heroic life for Barbara, too, although she never would have asked him. Of course, Devon had not asked him to give it up either – that was all Bruce.

He had little time to contemplate the dynamics of male/female relationships, though – or father/son relationships. He had work to do at Wayne Enterprises that commanded his full attention. Lucius had given him an assignment comparing two small businesses in which Wayne Enterprises might invest, and he wanted Dick to give him the pro's and con's of each.

Dick had not spent as many hours on it as he would have liked, but he hoped that he had given it the time that it required. Today he was supposed to put the finishing touches on the report summarizing his conclusions, and he was only about halfway done, with only a few hours before his deadline.

So after handing over the smashed bullet to Lucius upon his arrival, Dick had retreated into the storage room that he had been using as an office. It was a fairly large room, full of boxes and file cabinets with old contracts and the like, and, although it was a bit dusty, it suited Dick. A small desk and a couple of mismatched office chairs completed the décor. Not _exactly _the office that one would expect the future CEO of Wayne Industries to be occupying, but it was sufficient.

The phone on his desk buzzed.

"Dick Grayson."

"Oh my God. It's true." Jason's voice came through the line.

Dick grinned, leaned back in his chair, and propped his feet on the desk. "How did you get this number?"

"Receptionist, Wonder Boy."

"Damn them. I told them to screen my calls."

Jason's throaty chuckle was a gift to Dick – it meant that his brother's depression was under control today. The family all knew that part of Jason's problem, since coming home, had been a chronic depression that frequently pulled him down into a black place from which no one could rescue him; even Bruce, who had fought depression in the past, was unable to help his second-oldest son. Jason had been on a cycle of self-medicating for years, which never really worked – Dick knew that only consistent usage of medication would make a difference.

Dick also suspected that there might be another, undiagnosed mental illness in play, but Jason had long ago stopped trusting doctors, so it had gone untreated, as far as Dick knew.

"So Bruce finally did it – he got the golden child roped into the family biz. The _other _family biz."

"Well, you know, gotta put away the jammies some time and put on big-boy pants."

"Ha. As if you'll _ever_ do that."

"Well, I _do _look _really_ good in them."

"Especially the footy pajamas."

"It's gets all the women, you know."

"I wondered how you attracted Barbara."

"Sheer animal magnetism."

"I think it's just her bad vision. She thought you were me."

"We look nothing alike."

"It's true. I have the rugged good looks, and yours are oh, so _delicate."_

Dick chuckled in response. It was good to talk to Jason like this again. "So how did you hear about me working here?"

"I _was_ trained by the world's greatest detective."

"Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yeah. You know Watson was based on me, right?"

Jason sounded happy. "So when are _you_ going to come work here?"

"Well, I was thinking about it."

Dick was amazed. "Oh, yeah?" He could picture having lunch with his brother, sharing big decisions with him – things going back to the way they used to be.

"How about 'when hell freezes over?'" Jason's voice had dropped to a lower octave.

Dick sighed, his hopes deflated. "Jase..."

"I'm just not an office kind of guy, Dickiebird. _You_, of all people, should know that."

"You wouldn't have to be. Look, there's a position open in R & D, in the weapons division." Dick wasn't sure if there was or not, but, if Jason agreed, he'd make _sure_ that there was position for him.

"Nah. I'm not ready to have a paycheck that has Bruce's face on it."

"We used all those checks up. It's my face now." It felt good to joke with him.

"Not Damian's? He's slipping."

"He was too short to be seen in the official portrait, so they cut him out."

"Ha. If there's _ever _an official portrait, you _know _that he'll be standing on a box to tower over everyone else."

"Better than standing on our backs."

"That's more his style, I'll admit."

"So, should I give Lucius your name for that job?" It might be a good idea to push Jason now, while he was so obviously in a good mood.

"No can do. I've already got a job."

Dick smiled in delight. "That's great! What is it?"

"Bodyguard."

His brother's face fell. "Oh – that's – great, um – too. It's not for someone like – Penguin or Dent, is it?"

"No one that I'll have to kill later on."

"Well, that's – a – relief."

"I thought you might think so."

"So," he said slowly, "you want to have lunch today?"

"Dick, we're not going to do _normal_, you know. It's not in me."

"It's lunch, Jay. I'm not asking you to room with me."

"Now _that_ would be interesting."

A thought came to Dick. "Do you _need _a place to stay?"

There was silence on the other side of the line.

Dick's eyes opened wide. Jason didn't have anywhere to live.

Dick spoke without thinking. "Come stay with me, Jay."

"No. That won't work, Dick. Come on. We're not exactly Bert and Ernie."

"As long as you don't touch my rubber ducky, we'll be fine."

"That sounds _very _wrong, Grayson."

Dick ran a hand through his hair. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Little bit."

"So, you'll think about it? About staying with me, I mean?"

"Already thought about it."

"So that's a yes?"

"Yeah, sure. After all, your fridge is well-stocked. Hey, you got any beer? All I see is diet soda. You _seriously _drink that crap?"

"You're in my apartment right now." Dick put his hand over his eyes.

"Tell you what. I'll sleep on the sofa and you can keep the bed."

Dick shook his head in resignation. "Thanks."

"No prob." He heard Jason chewing. "Whoa! Why do you have seven – no – _eight_ different types of cereal?"

Dick ignored his brother's question. "I'll see you tonight, then."

"Hey, where do you keep the escrima sticks?"

"Do _not_ start playing with my stuff, Jason."

"That does _not_ sound good, either. Do you think about your words before you say them?"

Dick sighed. "Make yourself at home, Jase, you know – as long as you don't touch my _special _things."

"You did it again, Dickie. _Think_ before you _speak_."

Dick laughed. "I'll see you later."

"Thanks, bro."

Dick smiled. "You're welcome, _bro_."

Dick hung up the phone and drew in a deep breath. Yeah, this was a good day.

* * *

**Gotham University**

**Late that Afternoon**

Wally found Dick, as he knew he would, in the student union. Dick liked to be there in the afternoons on the days that the cafeteria baked peanut butter cookies. Dick would buy a half dozen of them, as well as a sixteen-ounce carton of whole milk, and enjoy them while studying in the lounge.

Wally dropped his laptop bag on the table with a loud thump, and glared at his best friend.

Dick stopped chewing and looked up at Wally. "What? I saved you one." He pointed at the last cookie on the paper plate.

"Thanks." Wally grabbed it and sat down. "But don't think that makes me _less mad _at you."

"Mad at _me_? What have I done?"

"_You _put me in the middle of your love life. I can barely handle my _own_!"

Dick drained the milk carton and crushed it in his hand. "What are you talking about?"

"_Barbara _came to see me today."

"Barbara?"

"Yes."

"_Gordon_?"

"How many _Barbara's _do you _know_?"

"Just the one."

"Yeah. Just the one."

"So she came to see you today. Big deal. You're her friend, aren't you?" As an afterthought, he frowned. "Came to see you _where_?"

Wally brightened suddenly. "Dude! My _new _office."

"You have an office now?"

"Yeah! Dr. Stapp's gone out of town to do some research with Star Labs, and he left _me _in charge of all academic advising until _after _Thanksgiving!"

"Way to go!" Dick put up his hand for a high five, and Wally slapped it enthusiastically.

"Thanks!" He crammed the entire cookie in his mouth. "But dob"t thint I'b goin to fawgit.." he waited to swallow before speaking again. "About Barbara."

"What the hell did you just say? I caught 'about Barbara.'"

"I said 'but don't think I'm going to forget about Barbara.'"

"What about her? You still haven't said."

"She came to my office to talk about _you_."

"_Me_? What about me? I've barely talked to her in two weeks."

"Exactly. She's _worried _about you."

Dick groaned. "Great. And this day was going so well."

"Yeah, well, so was mine until Babs read _me _the riot act because you're acting all mysterious."

"Mysterious? She actually said that _I'm _being _mysterious_?"

"She thinks you have some secret you're keeping from her. And you do." Dick set his jaw to one side, and Wally continued. "She wants to see you."

"Why? For what? What am I going to tell her? That I'm in love with someone else?" He spread his arms in exasperation.

Wally's jaw dropped. "What?! You're in _love _with Devon?"

Dick blinked at Wally. "I – I don't know." He looked into the distance, then back to his friend. "Maybe. Shit."

"Dude, did you – sleep – with her?"

"No!" Dick was insulted. "You know, I _can _have a relationship with a woman that's not based on _sex_."

"Since when?"

"Very funny. I – feel something for her, Wally. I can't describe it."

"It's called _lust, _turning quickly into _unhealthy obsession_. There i_s_ a way to remedy that."

"Yeah. I know. I should just forget about her. You keep saying that."

"Or bang her."

"You keep saying that, too. Make up your mind."

Wally shrugged. "The best way to get rid of an itch is to scratch it."

Dick looked at Wally for a long time. "That's very deep, Wally. Did you get that out of a fortune cookie?"

"Off a bathroom wall."

"I can tell."

"You know what? Forget my advice. It won't matter. The situation is out of your hands. She won't give you the time of day, so forget her."

"Oh, really? You think so?" Dick's voice was smug.

Wally nodded.

Dick gave a triumphant smile. "Well, I just _happen_ to have a date with her on Saturday."

"You're _kidding _me!"

Dick frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you _finally_ got a date with the girl that you've been _stalking _for two months. I don't know if I should be happy for you or scared for her."

"What?! You're the one who just told me to _scratch my itch_."

"Yeah, well, don't listen to me. I'm not good with women – I've only ever had one girlfriend."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hope that you liked this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it. I enjoy writing for all of the extended YJ / Batfamily, and I think it's important that I show the galaxy that Dick orbits in. I was really glad to bring Jason back into this, and we'll see more of him, and Tim, and Damian - and really, everyone. With Devon, getting involved with Dick means getting involved with his whole world!

Please review if you have time. I read them all, and take everything seriously!


	17. Chapter 17

**Blüdhaven**

**That Evening**

Dick unlocked the door to his apartment and went in, expecting to find Jason lounging on the sofa, watching television or playing a video game. The room, however, was dark, and Dick was instantly on his guard for anything amiss. He felt vaguely guilty for suspecting that Jason might try something, but experience told him that Jason's mental state was not always dependable.

He did a fast run-through of the apartment and found nothing other than a strange backpack, which, with a twinge of guilt, he searched quickly. There was nothing out of the ordinary – a t-shirt and jeans, deodorant – even a toothbrush and travel toothpaste. Well, at least Jason was a hygienic homeless person. There were no drugs – not even cigarettes. All very – normal. Dick began to relax. And then worry. Where was Jason? He hadn't said that he was going out.

_Quit it, Dick_. He admonished himself. _You are not your brother's keeper, and he's certainly **not** a prisoner, so don't treat him like one or he'll disappear again_.

Dick sat back and looked around the room. Right. Give Jason freedom and privacy.

_You can do that_.

He picked his backpack up and laid it on the kitchen table, and a thought came to him. What if Jason was out crime fighting? His vigilantism was one that Bruce did _not _approve of – guns mostly, instead of fists, and frequently with a body count. Jason always maintained that he only shot in self-defense, but Dick frequently wondered whether his brother took the easy way out when it came to defending himself.

Still, he wasn't going to _judge _Jason. The younger man definitely did not need that. No, what he needed right now was a warm, dry place to sleep, and maybe a sympathetic ear.

Dick went to the refrigerator and pulled out a diet soda. He was not really hungry yet, what with five peanut butter cookies and sixteen ounces of milk rolling around in his stomach. Maybe he'd order Chinese later – he seemed to remember that Jason was a General Tso's man.

He kicked his shoes off, threw himself on the sofa, and flipped on the television to the twenty-four hour local news station, which broadcast to both Gotham and Blüdhaven. A murder near Amusement Mile – not so amusing. A fire set at Arkham – how surprising. A fatal knifing at Blackgate – one less criminal clogging up the judicial system.

_Wait. When did I become so cynical? Jason's the cynical one. Great. He's rubbing off on me already, and he isn't even in the room._

An interview with Commissioner Gordon about the recent spate of home invasions in Bristol came on the television, and Dick remembered, all of a sudden, his conversation with Wally about Barbara.

Crap. Barbara was asking questions. He _really_ didn't want to get into any conversations about Devon with Batgirl. Everything with Barbara was still a _little_ too raw, and, even though Dick was no longer in love with her, that didn't mean that he didn't still have feelings for her, and telling her that he might have found someone else was bound to be awkward and painful – for Dick, at least.

But was he – _really –_ falling in love with Devon?

_God knows I want her, but __**love**__? Really?_

Was he ready for that? _She _sure didn't seem to be ready.

Was that why he could now see a life without Nightwing? Why he was _earnestly_ trying to do well at Wayne Enterprises? Because he – maybe – loved Devon, and wanted to spend his life with her? How could he want to spend his life with her – he _barely _even knew her!

"Love at first sight, you stupid shit."

Dick whirled to find Jason standing by the door, a pizza box balanced in one hand, a six-pack of beer in the other. Had Jason heard Dick's thoughts? What the hell? When had he become meta?

"Wh – what did you say?" Dick stood, shock evident on his face.

"I said your lock put up a fight. Stupid shit." Jason looked puzzled as he pulled a skeleton key out of Dick's door and kicked the door shut with his foot. "Why, what did you think I said?"

Dick gave a sigh of relief. "Just that." He walked over and gave his younger brother a bear hug. "Good to see you, man."

"Yeah. Same here." He squirmed out of his brother's embrace, and Dick had to smile. Jason was so much like Damian.

Jason put the pizza down on the table and the beer in the refrigerator. "Your lock is _way _too easy to get into, bro."

"You just said it put up a fight."

"I had my hands full. I could have gotten into it in ten seconds no problem if I wasn't holding this fine and delicious pizza." He threw back the lid with grandeur. "Ta da! _Six_-meat pizza."

Dick inhaled the wonderful fragrance. "That beats five-meat pizza by an entire _meat_."

Jason shrugged out of his jacket and threw it into a corner. "I know. And, while, _technically_, ham and Canadian bacon are pretty much the same thing, for the purposes of this pizza, they are separate, distinct cured meats."

Dick smiled. Jason was in a _very_ good mood.

Jason pulled two beers out of the refrigerator and tossed one to Dick, who caught it. "And this is my favorite pizza beer."

They both popped the cans open and took a swig. Dick extended his can towards Jason, who obediently clinked their cans together. "To family."

Jason took a swig. "To the family I _like_."

Dick shook his head ruefully and watched as Jason freed a piece of pizza from the box, folded it, and ripped off a huge chunk with his teeth.

Jason's eyes rolled back. "Damn, this is _good_."

Dick took his own piece and bit into it. It _was_ good.

Jason was already on the sofa, pulling off his boots. "Hey, can we watch ESPN? I haven't seen _Sports Center _in _forever_."

"Yeah. Sure. Of course." Dick brought the pizza box to the table in front of the sofa, and Jason grinned.

"Thanks, big bro."

Dick smiled and leaned back.

They watched television for a while in companionable silence, and finished off the pizza. Jason had two more beers, and Dick watched him with veiled concern. Mixing beer with anti-depressants was always bad news, but Dick did not want to nag Jason. Jason knew full well the drug/alcohol interactions, and Dick hoped that Jason would display common sense and stop at three cans of beer.

"So, Jay. How do you like your new job?"

Jason shrugged. "I guess I'll like it just fine. I start day after tomorrow."

"Oh. Wow – so this is really exciting."

He set the empty can on the table. "I guess." He repeated.

"So, what's the gig?'

"You know – just ..._guarding_. Don't worry, it's legit. A CEO of a paper company."

"Lot of danger in stationery, eh?"

"Eco-terrorism, more like."

"Ah. They know your – connection to Bruce?"

"No. That's the best part of being _Jason Todd_ rather than _Jason Wayne_. Damian's the one who has it hard. I mean, no one's ever pre-judged me as _Bruce Wayne's _kid."

"You're right. At least as a Grayson, unless they know my background, I get to make an impression as _myself_. It is a measure of freedom."

Jason leaned his head back on the sofa. "Yeah." He was quiet for a long time, and Dick wondered if he had fallen asleep. "Hey, Dickie, can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah, Jase. Sure. What is it?"

"Don't tell Bruce – or the others, that I'm here, okay?"

Dick was dismayed. Bruce felt that his own greatest failure in life was failing Jason, and knowing that his second-oldest was not only in town, but gainfully employed and staying with Dick would bring their father a measure of peace

"Yeah. Sure. Why?"

"I – don't want there to be expectations. On his part – or mine." Even though Jason had said 'don't tell the _others_,' it was clear that he had meant, 'don't tell _Bruce_.'

"Sure." Keeping silent was going to be hard.

"Thanks."

"No prob."

Dick pondered for a few minutes on the subject of Jason and Bruce, and silence fell.

"Hey, you going out tonight?" Jason's voice was sudden, as if he had nodded off for a second and had dragged himself back into consciousness.

"You mean patrolling? Yeah, probably."

"By yourself?" Jason's eyes were closed.

"Probably." Dick gave a bob of his head.

"Anyone shot at you recently?" Jason rubbed his hand over his face.

"Last night, as a matter of fact."

"Well, be careful, bro." He shifted onto his side.

Dick gave a crooked smile. This was so great – having Jason here. "Thanks."

Another lurch back into consciousness. "Hey, you mind if I take a shower and hit the sack? I'm wiped out."

"Sure. You go ahead, and I'll make up the sofa."

Jason smiled sleepily, and patted Dick on the knee clumsily. "Thanks." He staggered to his feet, and, grabbing his backpack from the floor, walked to the bathroom.

Dick watched him go, and stood to go retrieve the oft-used blankets and pillows for the sofa bed from the closet.

Yeah, this was a good day.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

"You're in a good mood tonight, Devon."

Devon smiled at her grandmother and reached out to pull another dinner roll from the plate in the middle of the table and shrugged. "It was a pretty good day." Dick had asked her out, and she had agreed. It was a risky thing to do; he was such a potential distraction, but she wanted _so _much to be with him that she was throwing common sense away.

"I'm glad. You were so – upset last night."

Devon used the bread to soak up some of the gravy from her meal. "Yeah, well – wonder why."

"You didn't tell me who your target was." Her grandmother was trying to be nonchalant, but she was interested.

"That's because it's on a need-to-know basis, and you don't need to know." Her voice was cool. At her grandmother's hurt face, she sighed. "It's for your own protection, Grandma."

"I know. You're right. I'm sorry." She gave Devon a comforting smile, and tried to change the subject. "How was school?"

"It was okay. I turned in that paper I was working on."

"That's good. How was breakfast and lunch service?"

Devon blushed, remembering the near miss with Dick when it had appeared that he was going to kiss her as he left. "It was fine."

"How much did we make?"

"Almost $900."

"That's great!" She smiled. "We might be able to get health insurance in January if this keeps up."

""Yeah!" Devon did a mock cheer. "I get to go to the doctor again!"

"Luckily you haven't needed much medical attention."

"Broken ribs notwithstanding." Devon sniffed.

"They weren't broken. Bruised, maybe."

"They felt broken." She grumbled.

"Do they feel better now?" Her grandmother's voice was patronizing.

"Yes." Devon said petulantly.

"Then they weren't broken."

Devon rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

The rest of dinner was awkwardly silent, with Devon miffed at what she perceived as her grandmother's lack of concern, and her grandmother irritated at what she perceived as Devon's lack of respect.

They cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher in silence, and Devon went to her room. She flopped down onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling. Her life sucked – without a doubt, it was_ lousy_. She was poor, was an orphan with no health insurance, worked too hard at a crappy job, juggled full-time college classes, had no boyfriend, had a cranky grandmother, and was being blackmailed into shooting at superheroes.

Not exactly the life she imagined for herself.

No good feeling sorry for herself; it was just a waste of her already limited free time. She should study.

She sat up disconsolately and looked around at her room. It all seemed foreign to her. Her belongings seemed to be someone else's. She felt – _disconnected _from everything at that moment. As if she wanted to get up, climb out the window, and disappear. Go somewhere else, start over, _be _someone else.

_Fat chance_! She snorted, and threw her legs over the bed. She didn't have the courage. And, even if she did, she could never abandon her grandmother. Were it not for Marie Wakeman, Devon knew that she would be dead; that she would have died in the fire with her parents and sister. She owed her grandmother everything.

She desultorily took out her books and began studying – biology. She had been steadily losing interest in the class, and in the subject, over the past weeks, and, were she really honest with herself, she would have acknowledged that she had not been excited by the prospect of the class even as she was registering for it.

She really wanted to change her major, but she had no idea what to change it to. As she had told Dick many weeks before, she needed something that she could get a job in after graduating; she had thought biochemical engineering might be the the way to go, but she was _bored _silly by the science classes now. Maybe electrical engineering.

_Maybe you should be better in math than you are_.

True – too math-heavy. Maybe something like...

She shook her head.

_Stop_! She admonished herself. _Get through this class before you start dreaming about changing your major. _

Right. First things first.

She spent about an hour and a half studying, and, finally, tired of reading about evolutionary biology, she tossed the book aside and got up to stretch, looking around the room.

What to do now. She was tired of studying, but not in the mood for sleep yet. She walked to the window and peered into the branches of the tree. No peeping Nightwing. She was relieved, but a little disappointed at the same time. Relieved because she had, after all, nearly shot Robin the night before, in Nightwing's presence, and disappointed because she kind of – _liked_ the thought that he was spying on her.

At first she thought the spying was _very _creepy, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized it didn't bother her. In fact, it gave her _power_. She didn't know why he was watching her, but she was in _control _of what he was seeing when he looked in her window, and it gave her the feeling that, in something, at least, she was the one controlling it. She could make him see what she _wanted _him to see, and the knowledge curled warm in her belly. Perhaps she had no control over the rest of her chaotic, but in this – in this, she _was._

She gave a sigh. No Nightwing outside.

She should take a shower. Maybe that would put her in the mood to fall asleep.

However, even after that, even after she had checked the tree again to find it empty, after she had settled herself in bed and turned off the light, she felt – restless. She picked up her phone, intending to play some mindless game until she fell asleep, but a thought struck her – a mischievous, dangerous thought.

She pulled up Dick's contact, and hit the call button.

It rang three times before he answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dick." She now questioned the wisdom of this call.

"Hey, Devon." He sounded delighted.

"I'm – calling you." _Brilliant, Devon – your eloquence is inspired_!

"I noticed."

She could almost hear his smile. She was suddenly glad that she called, even though she was making a fool of herself. His cheerfulness was exactly what she needed. "Did I – catch you at a bad time?"

There was a brief pause. "No. Not at all." Another brief pause. "You're not calling to cancel our date, are you?"

"It's not a _date_." She was sure to make that clear.

"Right. Going as friends. We're still going, right?"

"Yeah, we're still going." She smiled at his enthusiasm.

"Good." He sounded relieved. There was a long silence, and when he continued, his voice was soft. "It's good to hear from you."

The timbre of his voice sent a shiver of desire down her spine, and she closed her eyes. _Crap! Even the guy's voice makes me all hot and bothered_. "I know. I never call you."

"You're always busy. Except between eleven and eleven-thirty."

She remembered telling him that she had that half hour available to talk. "Right. It's 11:27. This is my social time. I have three minutes left, so be social, and be quick about it." She tried for flippancy in her voice.

He laughed. "You sound a little – different tonight."

Oh, she was different, all right. Unsettled. "I'm not drunk, if that's what you're hinting."

He laughed even harder, and she had to smile. "Most people who say they _aren't _drunk are the drunkest."

"I'm not. I'm just – bored."

"Wow. Take that, self-esteem." His voice sounded stunned.

She blushed, and put a hand over her eyes. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just feel – restless."

"Do you want me to come get you? We could – go somewhere, talk."

She was slow in answering. _Go somewhere and talk_? _Not likely. Go somewhere and rip his clothes off_? _Probably. _"No. I don't think that would be a good idea." She could imagine him nude, and, wow, was her imagination _fertile_.

"Why?"

She was going to say it – because she wanted to shock him, because she was being _reckless_. "Because we'd just end up having sex at your apartment."

He was quick to respond. "We can't. My brother is sleeping on my sofa. He'd never sleep through _that_. How about my car?"

She actually laughed, even though it hurt her ribs. Oh, he gave as good as he got.

She gave herself a slap in the face for her boldness. "I guess I deserved that. I'm sorry. I said I was restless." _And apparently **very**, **very **horny._

"Yeah. I get it." She could picture the crinkling of the skin around his eyes and the beautiful, straight teeth he displayed when smiling. "You sure you're not drunk?"

She wished that she could use that as an excuse. "No." Time to wrap up this awkwardfest. "Just maybe – getting sleepy."

"I've bored you to sleep?"

"No. You could never bore me." _God, no_! _I could never be bored of you –_ _I could just **stare** at you forever, and listen to you laugh, and touch your skin, and run my tongue down your neck, and... _

She shook herself out of her overexcited thoughts. "I'm sorry I've subjected you to my foul mood."

"What put you in said foul mood?" His voice was tinged with both concern and merriment.

She sighed. "I kind of – had an argument with my grandmother."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

She shook her head. There was _no _way that she could come clean with him about the subject of their disagreement. "Nah. But thanks. Just – talking to you helps. Really." _And picturing you naked_. _Although that didn't **really** help – it kind of made it worse because now that's all I'm picturing in my head_.

"Glad I could. Any time, you know. Just – give me a buzz."

"Thanks." She was quiet, trying to find a safe topic on which to latch. "So you're rooming with your brother now, huh?"

He seemed off guard. "Oh. Yeah. He just – came in from out of town. He's going to crash with me for a while before he decides what to do."

"Is he a twin?" She could picture another Dick Grayson, and the things she could do with _two _of them. _Oh, brain, don't go **there**_!

"God forbid. No, he's two years younger. He doesn't go to college. He – had a falling out with our – dad, and they still don't get along very well."

She didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry. Families are tough."

"Yeah. They are. But they're worth it."

"Yeah." Her voice was quiet – it had been so long since she had been part of a _real _family. _Hello! What about Grandma? We don't have a big brood, but she **is **my family_!

"Oh. Hey. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have –" He sounded apologetic.

She interrupted him – she hadn't meant to make him feel bad. "No. It's okay. Look, Dick, I – I think I'm going to say goodnight. I'm pretty tired, and, you know, five A.M. comes pretty early." It was the truth, yes, but, beyond that, she needed to hang up because she felt that, if he asked her again to allow him to come get her, she would say yes, and then all would be lost. She wouldn't resist him anymore. She didn't want to.

"Yeah. It's past your social time, anyway." He gave her an easy way out.

She laughed. He was so silly – so good for her peace of mind. She was quiet for a moment. "Thanks, Dick, for – talking to me." _And not taking advantage. Damn you_! Her naughty side chimed in.

"I hope you're a little less restless now."

_Not likely_! "Goodnight."

"Goodnight. Sleep well."

She clicked off.

"Not likely." She said, staring at the phone in his hand.

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**Earlier That Evening**

Nightwing sat on the edge of one of St. Bernadine's Church's many gables, staring out over the streets of Blüdhaven. The night was cold and clear, and he smiled. The city, _even _this city, which was, in many ways, worse than Gotham could _ever_ be, looked beautiful with the streetlights and the twinkling lights of cars driving its highways and roads.

It was nights like this, and times like this, when he could not _ever _imagine giving up being Nightwing.

After leaving Jason sleeping on the sofa, Dick had dressed in his uniform and had gone swinging through the worst portions of Blüdhaven, and had ended up interrupting a mugging. After profuse thanks from the victim as well as from the police, he had gone on his way and had ended up here, on St. Bernadine's, looking out over the city he was trying to save.

He thought about Jason then, about how _good_ it was to have him near, have him _functional_. Of all of the Robins, Jason had had the hardest journey, both because of the fate that he had been dealt, and because of his own inner demons. And, if Jason was surfacing now, if he was extending a hand to Dick for help, Dick was going to grasp onto that hand tightly and pull his brother up, if at all possible.

He was just considering calling Bruce and telling him when his call alert caused his hip to vibrate. Pulling the phone out, he looked at the Caller ID. It was Devon. Nice.

He smiled and answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dick." Her voice sounded unsure.

"Hey, Devon." His voice, he was certain, sounded delighted. He _was _delighted.

"I'm – calling you."

"I noticed." He smiled.

"Did I – catch you at a bad time?"

He grinned and looked around at the enchanting landscape. "No. Not at all." A thought gripped him, though, and he frowned. "You're not calling to cancel our date, are you?"

"It's not a _date_."

"Right. Going as friends. We're still going, right?"

"Yeah, we're still going."

"Good." He was relieved. There was a long silence, and he continued. "It's good to hear from you."

"I know. I never call you."

"You're always busy. Except between eleven and eleven-thirty."

"Right. It's 11:27. This is my social time. I have three minutes left, so be social, and be quick about it."

He laughed. "You sound a little – different tonight."

"I'm not drunk, if that's what you're hinting."

He _was _thinking that, and he laughed even harder. "Most people who say they _aren't _drunk are the drunkest."

"I'm not. I'm just – bored."

"Wow. Take that, self-esteem." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just feel – restless."

_Restless is good_, Dick thought. "Do you want me to come get you? We could – go somewhere, talk."

She was slow in answering. "No. I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why?"

"Because we'd just end up having sex at your apartment."

He nearly dropped the phone but recovered quickly. "We can't. My brother is sleeping on my sofa. He'd never sleep through _that_. How about my car?"

She actually laughed, and Dick did the same.

"I guess I deserved that. I'm sorry. I said I was restless." She sounded remorseful.

"Yeah. I get it." _Sex would help with that restlessness. _ "You sure you're not drunk?"

"No. Just maybe – getting sleepy."

"I've bored you to sleep?" He leaned his head back to look up at the sky.

"No. You could never bore me." There was another long silence. "I'm sorry I've subjected you to my foul mood."

"What put you in said foul mood?"

She sighed. "I kind of – had an argument with my grandmother."

"Anything you want to talk about?" He would listen to her talk forever, if he could look at her, and hold her hand, and kiss her neck, and run his fingers over her skin..._snap out of it, Dick_!

"Nah. But thanks. Just – talking to you helps. Really."

He resisted suggesting again that he come see her. She obviously wasn't ready for the next step in their relationship, and he did not want to push her. "Glad I could help. Any time, you know. Just – give me a buzz."

"Thanks." She was quiet. "So you're rooming with your brother now, huh?" She changed the subject, and he had to mentally change gears.

"Oh. Yeah. He just – came in from out of town," a little lie was required here – no need to air dirty laundry, after all. "He's going to crash with me for a while before he decides what to do."

"Is he a twin?"

_What a hideous thought – especially for Bruce. _"God forbid. No, he's two years younger. He doesn't go to college. He – had a falling out with our – dad, and they still don't get along very well."

"I'm sorry. Families are tough."

"Yeah. They are." He thought of all that they had been through with Jason. "But they're worth it."

"Yeah." Her voice was quiet.

Dick remembered suddenly that the only family that Devon had left was her grandmother, with whom she had just fought. "Oh. Hey. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have –"

She interrupted him. "No. It's okay. Look, Dick, I – I think I'm going to say goodnight. I'm pretty tired, and, you know, five A.M. comes pretty early."

"Yeah. It's past your social time, anyway." It was probably time to let her go.

She laughed, and was quiet for a moment. "Thanks, Dick, for – talking to me."

"I hope you're a little less restless now." _Please tell me that you think I'm useful for something_.

"Goodnight." She didn't answer the question.

"Goodnight. Sleep well."

She clicked off, and Nightwing was left, sitting on the roof of St. Bernadine's, staring at the phone in his hand.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

"I'm not going to do it. I'm not." Dick shook his head as he perched on the roof of the building next to Devon's. "I'm going home." He made to shoot a line to another building, but withdrew it slowly, and turned to look at Devon's window, lit from within. He could see a shadow moving between him and the light, and knew that she was still stirring. She was still stirring, and so was he.

She had been in such an odd mood earlier, moody and flirtatious at the same time. She had said that she was restless, and he had an idea the root of her restlessness. It was probably the same thing that had kept him on edge for weeks. Desire, pure and simple.

Desire for each other that she denied, and that he _was _denied_._

Sometimes he wanted her so much that he ached, in his muscles and in his bones. Sometimes he just wanted to swing into her room and grab her shoulders and yank her into his arms and kiss her – taste her lips as he had that day he had driven her home. Lay her down and peel off her clothes and press his lips against her skin, taste her skin, taste every part of her...

He groaned, and launched his line to the tree outside her window, landing amongst the thin branches. He crawled down to the one nearest her window, and settled himself there. She was lying on her stomach on her bed, although all that he could see from his vantage were her legs, idly swinging back and forth, bent at the knee.

He smiled. Her legs were naked, and her feet in socks, something he found oddly endearing.

He inched forward, and the branch groaned under his weight. He froze, wondering whether she had heard it, but she did not appear to have been alerted, and he relaxed.

He watched her for several minutes, having to content himself with the view of her legs and feet, until she sat up, suddenly, and scooted off the end of the bed into his full view. He withdrew into the branches self-consciously as she walked to her bureau. She rifled through the drawers, her back to him, and pulled out a t-shirt, which she tossed on top of the dresser. Then, with one swift movement, she stripped off the one she was wearing, and threw it onto the floor.

Dick was taken aback, and, although he knew that he should, he neither turned away nor left his perch.

He watched as, clad only in small sleep shorts, she pulled a brush through her hair, her back to him. He watched the brush glide through her shiny hair with long, languorous strokes, the flexing of the muscles in her back, and the movement of her shoulder blades beneath her creamy skin.

He knew that it would take him just a few seconds to swing himself through the window, to come up behind her, to slip his arms around her body, to cup her breasts in his hands, to coax her back against him, to lower his head to her shoulder, and to take it in his mouth...

He watched as she set the brush down and shrugged the clean shirt over her head. She turned and walked to her bed, pulled back the blankets, and climbed in.

Dick lay back against the tree trunk, closed his eyes, and sighed, trying to will away his raging erection. He _had _to stop doing this – had to stop coming here and spying on her. It was wrong.

But, even as he told himself that he would stop, he knew that he would not.

* * *

Devon heard the rustle of the branches, and knew, immediately, the source of the sound. Nightwing was back.

She panicked and froze for just a second, then resumed the lazy swinging of her legs, although her mind left the textbook that she had been reading.

What was he doing here – again? Was he here here because he knew that _she_ had fired a shot at Batman? Was he here to bring her down? Or was he here for something completely different?

_Really_? She asked herself. _You really think that Nightwing might be here because he has the **hots** for you_? _And, what? **You **want him to come in?_

She crawled from the bed and went to the bureau. With an imp of mischief in her soul, she pulled out a clean t-shirt and stripped off her other, tossing it to the floor. Then, slowly, deliberately, she picked up a hairbrush, and began brushing her hair in long, sensual strokes, keeping her back to him. Letting the hair fall against her desire-heightened skin, she imagined his hands skimming up her arms, his lips against her neck, turning in his arms, and feeling his body against hers as he urged her over to the bed.

Devon pulled herself out of her reverie, laid the brush down, and slid the shirt on. Although nothing more was heard from outside, she was almost sure, as she had passed by the window, that she had caught the faintest shadow of movement in the branches. He was still there.

She went back to bed, her heart pounding, her body on fire, and, as she lay there, staring up at the ceiling, waves of frustration pulsing through her, she thought she finally knew, for certain, why Nightwing was watching her.

And she wasn't sure what she _should _do about that, but she _was _sure what she _wanted_ to do.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Well, Devon seems to have the hots for two guys - at least she THINKS it's two guys...

Thanks to sunflower13 for betareading. I still have a betareader slot open, if anyone is interested - three sets of eyes are better than two!

Thanks to all of you for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. Please review if you did!


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Pre-Chapter Notes: ** A knowledge of _The Lord of the Rings _movies is helpful, but not essential for the enjoyment of this chapter.

**VERY IMPORTANT NOTE ON JANUARY 28, 2013: **According to the internet (tumblr), Cartoon Network has decided to cancel BOTH Young Justice and Green Lantern: The Animated Series. You don't know how much this upsets me. I LOVE YJ; it is OBVIOUSLY the genesis of this fic! For this reason, I am posting a BONUS chapter of "Shatter Me" in hopes of alerting all my readers. PLEASE take a moment to send your thoughts to Cartoon Network BEFORE reading this chapter. it will only take a few minutes!

Due to Fanfiction's policy on not having links, I could not list them here (THANKS, FF!)

Go to my blog on tumblr (sea-dilemma) and find the info there. You do not have to register or anything. You can also search the young justice tag for the information. Or, if you are still having trouble, PM me, and I will send you to the right place.

There are several e-mail addresses and phone numbers you can contact, OR, you could sign a petition, OR, you could send snail mail to CN at the following address: 1050 Techwood Drive NW, Atlanta GA 30318

HOWEVER, please be polite. Threats and swearing will get us nowhere!

Now, back to our regularly scheduled fanfic...AFTER you contact Cartoon Network!

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Week**

It took Saturday _forever _to arrive – at least in Dick Grayson's mind. The days after the strange phone call from Devon seemed to drag by. Each class felt longer; each meeting at Wayne Enterprises more excruciatingly boring; each night as Nightwing forever.

Of his new roommate he saw little during that time. Jason, who started his new job two days after moving in with his brother, was gone each morning before Dick even woke, and often came home late at night.

He was the perfect roommate, however. He kept his area clean, put away his bed linens each morning, never left dirty dishes, and washed his own clothes.

Dick was startled by this new Jason, whose previous ill tempers seemed to have vanished, and who could now even be considered cheerful sometimes. It was highly ironic, Dick had always thought, that the Robin who had tried the hardest to distance himself from Bruce had always been the most like him. But Jason was showing shades of lightheartedness that the other members of the Wayne family would have said were more like Dick than Jason.

However, none of the other members of the family had seen Jason, to Dick's knowledge. He had, on his brother's request, kept Jason's presence a secret, although Dick loathed keeping any secrets from Bruce. It went against all that Bruce had taught him – although Dick realized that, unfortunately, Bruce kept _many _secrets from him.

Unfortunately, he nearly let the truth about Jason slip to Tim on the phone when his brother called him.

He was just exiting his last class of the day and planning on dinner when Tim's contact came up.

He swiped the screen and brought it up to his ear. "Hey, little bro."

"Hey, big bro. What's up?"

"You know. The sky. What's new in Princeton?" He pushed open the classroom building door and walked out into a cold, sunny day.

"I've decided my roommate is evil."

He zipped up his jacket. "I told you to get a one-person dorm room. _Bruce _told you to get a one-person dorm room."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But what kind of a college experience would it be if I didn't have a roommate?"

"A better one than you are having now, apparently." He headed for the parking lot.

"Yeah, well."

"So what's he done to make him win lousy roommate of the year award?"

"He got a fish."

"A fish? What? Is it – an _evil _fish?" He reached his car and pulled his keys out.

"No. The fish _isn't_ evil. He's really kind of cute."

"How can you tell it's a he? Does it wear boxer shorts?" He opened the car door and slung his backpack in.

"It's a betta fish, genius. Sexual dimorphism."

"Uh, you do recall I was absent during biology class?"

"The entire year?"

"For as much as I remember." He got in the car and put on his seatbelt.

"It means that the male and female of the species look vastly different."

"Couldn't you have just said that?" He started the engine, and the phone was switched to bluetooth.

"I did. I said _sexual dimorphism_. I can't help if you slept through biology freshman year." Tim's voice reverberated through the car, and Dick turned the volume down.

"I had better things to do – like _save the world_."

"Only once?"

"Ha. Ha. Very funny." Dick started the car.

"It's a gift."

"So tell me why your roommate is evil just because he bought a fish."

"He _doesn't _feed the fish, so _I _have to. And the little guy _eats _like ten times a day. I thought that those fish were low-maintenance."

"Maybe you're feeding him too much." He backed out of the parking space and started to drive from the lot. _Please, Lord, don't let me run over anyone today_.

"He always eats the food I throw in."

"Okay, then. I guess not." He pulled into the street.

"And I'm _frigging _losing sleep over missing a feeding!"

Dick began laughing. "It looks like you've got an idea what fatherhood will be like."

"Yeah, well, another reason to practice safe sex."

"One of many." He drove the familiar streets to Blüdhaven.

"I'm thinking of asking Bruce if I can get an off-campus apartment."

"You taking the fish with you?"

"Probably."

"Having your own apartment will take care of your roommate problem." He looked briefly into his rearview mirror to change lanes.

"I know why you never lived on campus. _No_ roommate problems."

"Yeah, I'm lucky. My roomie's been pretty good."

"Your what?"

Dick nearly lurched into the other lane. _Damn_! He hadn't been paying attention, so he had let it slip. "What?"

"You said 'my roomie's been pretty good.' What roomie?"

"Oh, what?" Dick scrambled for a plausible answer. "What? Oh, I meant Ace." _Real smooth, Dick. _Ace was the name of his childhood dog, who had passed away about five years previously.

"O – kay." Tim sounded skeptical.

"So, anyway, if you want your own place," Dick hastened to change the subject, "I'll support you."

"Thanks, Dick."

"Hey, what are brothers for?"

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Day**

Saturday was also on Devon's mind constantly, although she was not anticipating it, but _dreading _it. She was dreading it because she wasn't sure that she could continue resisting Dick, and, worse, she didn't _want_ to continue resisting him. She was sure that part of that was simply the fact that he had awakened needs within her that she hadn't had for a very long time. Thanks to him, she was _aching_ for a man's touch.

She had never considered herself a very sexual person; after all, she had been without a partner since breaking up with her last boyfriend more than two years before, but Dick's obvious desire for her, coupled with his attractiveness and their incessant flirting, just made her _want_ him so much.

And she was afraid that she would succumb. She would succumb to her desires and become his lover and then she would want _more _from him. She would want to be a part of his life, and make him a part of hers. And she just could _not _do that. She could not bring him into the craziness. She obviously could never tell him what her part-time _job _was, and getting involved with him romantically could actually put him in danger from Larry and his employers.

But she wanted him _so _much. And she couldn't have him.

However, she _had_ agreed to go to the movies, so she would. She would go to the movies with him and stay _aloof_, and never, ever, ever agree to go out with him again – anywhere.

* * *

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**Gotham City**

**Two Days Later**

When Saturday finally arrived, Devon woke early and dressed carefully – even though she did not want to encourage Dick into thinking that they could be anything _other _than friends, she wanted, perversely, to look her best.

She chose a figure hugging, soft, scoop neck t-shirt in black, her best jeans, and a cute pair of black flats.

She tried to bypass her grandmother completely by sneaking out, but the wily old woman caught her.

"Where are you going?"

Devon stopped and turned around slowly, trying to concoct a suitable lie. "Uh. Study group."

"Without your backpack?" She was instantly suspicious.

"Actually, it's a discussion group – led by the professor. He's going to give us – handouts." _Lame_! She thought.

Although her grandmother did not appear completely mollified, she nodded. "Be careful."

"Thanks, Grandma." She had a sudden memory that all the _Lord of the Rings _movies lasted more than nine hours. "After that I'm going to go to the movies – a classic film that my – English professor – wants us to compare to the novel."

"Really? Which one?"

"Oh. Which one. Good question. I don't – remember. Something – British, I think."

"_That's _informative."

"Yeah. Sorry. I'll be back – late. I guess." She gave her grandmother a quick peck on the cheek, and ran from the room before the older woman could ask any more questions.

The La Scala Theater was about seven blocks from the diner, so Devon decided to walk. Although it was cold, it was clear and sunny, and she didn't mind. She deliberately took a route different from the one she had used the night she shot at Batman – she didn't want to be reminded of it. She resolved that, today, she was going to forget all about Larry and his employers and her mission and the fact that Larry's boss had threatened her and her grandmother. She was going to put all that aside and be _normal_.

It was a quick walk, and she arrived about fifteen minutes before ten A.M., the time upon which she and Dick had agreed.

Despite that, though, he was waiting for her. She caught sight of him before he saw her, standing before a poster of the first movie and bending close to read the small print. He was such a dork. Gorgeous and sexy with an ass that she could bounce a quarter off, but still a dork.

Wow. This was not starting off well.

He wore black jeans and a scuffed leather jacket, and, when he turned, she saw that he was wearing a red button down shirt and a pair of sleek black sunglasses. The effect was devastating on a woman who had not had sex for over two years. It also made her worn, puffy, pink jacket seem ridiculous – although she was certain that was not his intention. After all, he couldn't help that he dressed well. And that he was a sexy beast.

A wide smile broke out on his face when he saw her, and he removed his glasses slowly, tucking them into a pocket in his jacket.

_Lord in Heaven, does he have to look like a Greek god with everything he does_? _That is – if Greek gods wore sunglasses and leather jackets. No, they wore almost nothing_.

The thought of Dick in almost nothing weakened her knees for a moment, but she pulled herself together enough to greet him.

"Hey, Devon." He leaned forward and gave her a soft, feathery kiss on her cheek, which she had not been expecting. She wanted to turn her head into him and kiss him on the lips, but she controlled herself.

"I'm early." She said, unnecessarily, pulling away in an attempt to retain her sanity.

His smile grew. "So am I. That's great. We'll be able to get good seats."

The theater was particularly crowded for ten on a Saturday morning, and she could see the wisdom in his words.

He proffered his arm to her and she blushed, but slipped her own arm through. What harm could it do to walk arm-in-arm?

"I got the tickets already, so we get to bypass the line." He smiled down at her. "Advanced ticket sales are the best."

Indeed, they walked past a queue of people waiting at the closed box office, amid a sea of envy.

"Good call." She murmured.

He looked at her sideways. "Thanks. Let's get loaded up with junk food."

He gave their tickets to the usher, who allowed them through to the snack bar, which, predictably, because of the closed box office, was deserted.

"Wow," Devon marveled, "no one else bought tickets in advance?"

It was Dick's turn to blush. "Well, uh, the tickets were not, generally, uh, exactly _available_ in advance – you know, for the most part."

"Oh. Well. Lucky us, then." She looked around at the splendor of the theater. "Wow. This place is beautiful."

Dick smiled. "Yeah, it is." He agreed. "It just underwent a twenty million dollar renovation."

"Wow." She breathed, trying to imagine what she would do with that much money.

"The theater was built in 1928, right before the stock market crash, and right as sound in movies was introduced."

She looked up at the soaring ceilings and architectural flourishes. "It's art deco, isn't it?"

"One of the best examples in the city, and, now, thanks to the restoration, one of the most well-preserved."

"You sure do know a lot about it."

"Yeah." He tried to brush off the question. "So what do we want?" He stopped before the glass counter displaying candy.

"You pick. I'll eat anything."

He looked at her for a long moment, a blissful smile on his face. "I think I love you."

She must have looked astonished, because he blushed again, and backtracked. "I – love – concession food." He rushed on. "I can't help it. It reminds me of when I was young."

"Oh, did you used to come to the movies a lot when you were a little kid?"

A sad smile came to his face. "Not exactly. I grew up in a circus."

She thought that she had misheard him. "You did _what _now?"

"I grew up in a circus. Until I was nine."

She was astounded. "I did not – know that."

He shrugged. "I don't announce it or anything, when I meet someone. Everyone – close to me knows." His smile became lopsided. "I guess you're close to me now."

She was certain that her cheeks were aflame, and she looked down at the candies lined up behind glass. "SnoCaps, didn't you say?"

"Yeah. They're my favorite. I used to bite all the little sugar beads off each piece."

"It must have taken forever."

"It kept me busy during the shows, that's for sure."

"Oh, wow." She looked at him again. "Your parents were circus _performers_?"

"Yeah. The Flying Graysons. The greatest trapeze and acrobatic act in the western hemisphere."

"Really?" She smiled, intrigued. "_You_ were a trapeze artist?"

He shrugged again. "I still am, I guess. I mean, I try to keep my skills up. Just for fun." He hastened to add.

"So why did you guys leave the circus? Was it so that you could go to a regular school?"

His face saddened. "No. They – my parents – died in an accident. They fell during a performance."

"Dick!" She grabbed his arm unconsciously. "No! That's horrible! I'm _so _sorry." A terrible thought came to her. "Were – were you _there_ when it happened?"

He nodded, memories clouding his eyes. "Yeah. I was on the ground with some of the other circus people. They tried to shield me, but it – happened _so_ suddenly."

There was sympathy on her face, and she ran her hand up and down his arm in an attempt to comfort him. "Wh – what happened then? Is that when you were adopted?"

"Yeah. Br – _my dad_ – was in the audience and saw it happen. His parents were killed when he was really young, too, so he had – an idea what I was going through. And when he found out that I was going to go into the foster system, he decided to adopt me." There was a faraway look in his eyes. "He saved my life."

She gave his hand an impromptu squeeze. "I think that your parents would be very proud of you."

He turned to her, enfolding her hand in his. "Thanks."

She was almost overcome with a desire to stretch onto the tips of her toes and kiss him, but she turned back to the concession stand instead. "Come on. Let's get our junk food and grab seats."

"Okay." They walked hand-in-hand to the service counter and he squinted up at the menu board. "Uh, let me have two nachos, two jumbo diet drinks without a lot of ice, a box of SnoCaps, and a medium popcorn with extra butter." He smiled at the employee, and turned to Devon. "Nachos are the breakfast of champions."

"Yes, I _have_ heard that before." She nodded seriously.

"Really?" His eyes grew wide.

"No." She grinned at him, and he responded in kind.

"I'll eat yours if you don't want them." He assured her.

"Oh, no. _I'm_ a champion."

He nodded. "Good." He pulled out his wallet and paid, and handed her the nachos while he took the drinks, candy, and popcorn.

"Are acrobats generally able to balance snack foods?"

"Yes, generally speaking." They walked towards the auditorium. "Although this isn't a challenge. I didn't even order an extra-large popcorn." He looked at her confidentially. "Extra-large popcorn is reserved for _The Return of the King_."

They found seats in the back row, directly in the middle.

"I look forward to that. If I have enough room in my stomach." Devon shrugged off her coat and laid it on the seat next to her, along with her purse.

"Nachos digest quickly. Trust me." Dick divested himself of his own jacket, treating her to the sight of the shirt straining across his shoulders as he reached to lay the jacket on the next seat.

She dragged her eyes away. "Sure. Nachos digest quickly for someone who trains as an acrobat." They settled down and she handed him the chips.

"Not as much as I should." He patted his flat belly. "I think I'm getting a nacho gut."

She laughed. "I doubt that very much."

"Oh, yeah? Go ahead, touch it."

She looked at him through wary eyes, but did as he commanded, and touched the softly rounded mound of his stomach through his shirt. A jolt of awareness went through her, but she tried to remain nonchalant. "Oh, yeah," she mocked him teasingly, "you're downright _obese_."

He laughed, and she took her hand away.

They munched on the nachos in companionable silence as the theater started to fill.

"I should save some for the _actual _movie." Devon put the tray aside.

"I eat most of the snacks before the movie even begins. Especially when the nachos are this good." He looked at the paper tray in approval.

"As good as the circus?"

"Not quite." He smiled nostalgically. "But then, I seem to remember everything about the circus through rose-tinted lenses. I never remember the shabbiness of the trailers, or the mustiness of the tents, or the stench of the clown costumes that rarely got washed." He looked at her as if to gauge her response.

"I think that's always the case with childhood. I always remember my mom and dad being happy, but the truth is that they weren't."

He looked sympathetic. "Why? Were they having problems?"

She shook her head. "Not with their marriage, no. It was because of my sister, Ingrid. She was five years older than me." Devon took a deep breath. "She was – diagnosed with cancer when she was two, and," she shook her head. "It overshadowed everything in their lives."

"I'm sorry. How old were you when they – died?"

"Four."

"Wow. That's rough."

"Yeah. The anniversary of their death was about a week ago. It was – hard. It's always hard. On my grandmother especially. I mean – don't get me wrong, it's hard on me, but for her, she lost her only child. And one of her only two grandchildren."

Just then, the previews began, and they turned their attention to the screen.

When the first movie began, Dick lifted the armrest between their seats and slid his arm around her shoulder. It felt so natural to lean against him, and feel the warmth of his body through the thin material of his shirt. She knew that, as friends, they should not be so close; she should not be snuggling into him; he should not be tracing patterns on her shoulder with his fingertips; she should not be shivering at his touch; she should not want to kiss him.

Throughout the first movie they continued to sit close together and yet, even though he whispered a comment on the movie into her ear several times, even though their hands often collided in the popcorn tub, and and even though she hid her face in his shoulder during the scene in which Boromir was killed, their lips never met. She was tempted to tip her head up to his, and felt sure that, had she done that, his response would have been swift and decisive. However, she was always mindful of the knowledge that she could not, no matter how much she wanted to, let him further into her life – for his safety and her sanity.

The first movie finally ended, and Dick looked over at her. "Time for an intermission."

"Right." She tried to focus on his face.

"Meet you back here?"

"Sounds great." She nodded absently.

After using the ladies' room, she washed her hands and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. A stranger looked back at her – one who had eyes that glittered with passion, whose cheeks were rosy with desire, who looked softer – somehow. She sighed, and returned to the auditorium to find him texting.

"Oh, you kids nowadays." She said, teasingly, in an old lady voice. "Always with your gadgets."

He chuckled and slid the phone back into his pocket. "My brother."

"The one sleeping on your sofa?"

He smiled. "No. The brainy one."

"I thought you must be the brainy one."

"Me?" He looked genuinely pleased. "No. Not me. The brainy one got into Princeton."

"How many brothers do you have again?" She vaguely remembered him telling her.

"Three brothers. All younger."

"And you're all adopted?"

"No. The youngest is my father's biological son. And he _never _lets anyone forget it."

"Oh. Is that – hard for you?"

Dick shook his head. "No. Our father treats us _all _the same. We're all held to the same standards – impossibly high ones, of course. But he's very fair."

"That's good. It would be hard if he played favorites." _This I know from personal experience, Dick, _she thought. _So trust me_.

"No, trust me." It was almost as if he were responding to her comment, and she was taken aback, but he continued. "Our father is _obsessed _with doing everything right. Playing favorites is the _last _thing he would do."

"How old is your youngest brother?"

"He's ten. He's a little shit, but he's the greatest kid I've ever known."

She laughed. "Does he know that?"

"That he's a little shit? Yeah, he knows he is."

"No. I mean about how much you love him."

A dimple appeared in his cheek briefly. "He knows. He takes advantage of it sometimes, but he knows."

She smiled, not knowing what to say, and was saved from responding by the start of the second film.

"Ready for round two?" He whispered in her ear, and she nodded, smiling at him.

This movie was not as enthralling to Devon as the first, and she allowed her mind, and her eyes, to wander occasionally to the subject of Dick Grayson. She had learned a lot about him today, and all that she had learned just made him more attractive to her. With his tragic story and the obvious adoration he had for his father and his brothers, his esteem grew in Devon's eyes. He had had a very difficult situation thrust upon him, but he had emerged a wonderful young man. He had also received a great blessing from his adoptive father, and it was clear that Dick cherished and appreciated it, and his life was a reflection of that appreciation.

Her eyes stole down to their entwined hands several times throughout the second film, and she was tempted, _several_ times, to bring her other hand over and cover his, but she did not, feeling that such a move was very _intimate_ – it seemed something that a girlfriend might do – but a _friend_? Well, a _friend _would not be holding his hand in the first place.

The second film ended, and, true to his word, Dick purchased an extra large tub of popcorn to enjoy for the third film which was, to Devon, the most exciting of the three, with its many breathtaking battle scenes. During a particularly harrowing section, Devon grabbed hold of Dick's upper thigh in surprise, and she felt his muscles tense. She started to remove her hand but he covered it with his own and gripped it tightly, imprisoning it between his leg and his hand.

She stole a look at him, her face red, but he seemed engrossed in the movie, and she wondered if he had even noticed what he had done. Her hand was much, much too close to his groin, and she was embarrassed by its proximity. Still, she did not think that she could pull her hand away without, possibly, drawing attention to that fact.

Her hand remained there until he slid his arm around her body and pulled her close to him, until they were pressed together, torso to thighs, and until Devon's body was on fire with built-up frustration and desire.

She sat, in agony, her body so close to his until she was almost thrumming with arousal. She wanted nothing more than to turn to him and pull his head down to her and kiss him. She wanted to feel his hands on her bare flesh, and to hell with the movie and the people around them.

She resisted her own base impulses, however, but was infinitely relieved when the credits finally began to roll and the lights came up, and Dick released her.

His eyes were shining with what she was sure was in her eyes, as well, and she knew that there was trouble ahead.

"Uh, good movie." She said, lamely, trying not to look at him. She grabbed her coat and put it on.

"Was it better seeing it on the big screen?" He seemed to have recovered his equilibrium, if he had ever lost it, which she doubted.

"Oh, yeah! The battle scenes were astounding!" She hoped she wasn't overselling it; although the battle scenes were legitimately incredible, most of her conscious thought had been centered around the man sitting next to her.

He slid on his jacket and gathered the detritus of their snacks. "It's been such a long time since I've seen them all that I had forgotten how good they are."

They walked out of the auditorium and through the lobby, out into the night. Dick looked at his phone. "Wow. It's after nine."

She gave him a smile. "Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?"

He looked at her, startled, but seemed to recover. "No. I just forgot that it would be an all-day thing. It's late. I'll drive you home."

Thinking about the kisses they had shared the last time he had driven her home, she refused. "I'll be fine. Walking's good for me."

"You're right. It is. So _walk_ with me to my car and I'll drive you home." He stepped closer, a twinkle in his eyes. "I'm not letting you walk home _alone_ through Gotham in the dark, so, unless you want me to follow you at about five miles an hour, you'll let me drive you." His body was only inches away, and Devon tipped her head up to look at him.

"You're tall for an acrobat, aren't you?" The incongruous thought came to her mind suddenly, and she gave it voice.

He blinked, as if confused, then smiled. "My mother's father was the circus sword swallower, and he was apparently six feet five."

"Is it helpful to be tall if you're a sword swallower?"

"It can't hurt. Longer throat, after all." He stepped back, and offered his arm, as he had that morning. "So, we walk to the car and I drive you home?"

Her smile was exasperated as she slipped her arm through his. "Fine. But if my grandmother catches us, she'll have a cow."

They began walking at a leisurely pace. "Why is your grandmother so opposed to you dating?"

Devon gave an answer that was partially true. "Because she thinks I'll slack off on my school if I have a boyfriend. That's what happened to her. She was in nursing school when she met my grandfather, and she dropped out to marry him. I think she always regretted not finishing, and she doesn't want that to happen to me."

He gave a nod. "That makes sense, I guess." He pointed forward. "My car's in that parking garage. Fourth floor. I hope you're not opposed to climbing stairs."

She thought of the twenty-plus floors she had climbed the night of the shooting. "I'm okay with it."

"Good."

She noticed a distinct chill in the air. "Wow. It got cold."

"It's November. Are you warm enough?"

"Oh, yeah. Except my ears." She touched them. "They'll probably be red by the time we get to the car."

He clapped his hands over her ears. "We can walk like this, if you like."

She smiled, and responded in an overloud voice. "I can't hear you! Some dude's got his hands on my ears!"

He chuckled and dropped his hands. "Point taken." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "So, did you really like the movies?" He asked, looking at her hopefully.

"Oh, yeah! I've only ever seen them on DVD, so seeing them on the big screen was great."

He smiled and looked down at his feet. "They _are_ pretty cool."

She laughed.

He looked at her, a grin on his face. "What's so funny?"

She shook her head. "It's just that you're such a..." She trailed off.

"Such a what?" He stopped and turned to face her.

"A smooth talker. So to hear you say something is 'pretty cool,' well, it was just – funny."

He chuckled and took her hand and began walking again. "I guess you have me tongue tied."

She thought of his tongue tied up with hers, and tried to press on. "I have to get out my calendar."

"What for?"

"To note the day that Dick Grayson was tongue-tied."

"It doesn't happen often, I admit."

There was an easy silence until Dick broke it. "So, who was your favorite character?" He asked.

She thought on it for a second. "Hmm. Let's see. Well, I liked Eowyn. She kicked butt."

He smiled. "Yeah. She did. And she is _very _hot."

"Oh, ho! Now I know what impresses you!"

He blushed. "Hey! I'm not _just_ into looks."

"Says the man who _looks_ like a male model."

"Well, you're no ugly mug."

"Thanks – I think."

"It _was_ a compliment." There was another long silence. "I'm not interested in looks only, you know. I like the whole _package_."

She looked at him and began laughing.

"Now what is it?"

"Dick, I don't know if you should be talking about the whole _package_."

He colored, and she grabbed his arm, laughing louder this time.

"Don't tell me," he said, "that you didn't think that there were hot guys in those movies. How about Legolas?"

"Nah. Too girly for me." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Aragorn, then?"

She smiled. "Maybe Aragorn."

"So you like the scruffy type?" They reached the garage, and he opened the door to the stairwell for her.

She scrunched up her face. "Not so much."

"Is it the heroic thing, then?" They began climbing the stairs.

"Maybe. Yeah." It was her turn to blush.

He gave a slow grin. "So like that guy – that superhero who was at your diner a couple of weeks ago?"

"What about him?" She asked, too nonchalant.

"Did you think he was hot?"

She stopped and looked at him. "Really, Dick Grayson, you want to know what kind of guys I think are _hot_?" _How about the one in front of me_?

"No. I'm just – interested."

"Well," She smiled mischievously and turned her back on him to climb the next few steps. "I happen to like _black_ hair – " _Be careful, Devon_! _You're in over your head_!

"Which he has."

"And _blue_ eyes." _Stop! You __**cannot **__do this!_

"No idea what his eye color is."

She shook her head. "Me neither. And muscular. But not too buff. Just – buff enough." _And perfect._

"Okay. Does that describe him?"

"I don't know. I didn't get _that _close. It does describe _you, _though." _Oh, shut up! Just __**shut up**__!_

He stopped walking. "Shit. I wasn't trying to –."

She dragged him along by the hand. "My ass. You already _know_ that I'm attracted to you, Dick. Believe me, if it weren't for the fact that I _really _can't get involved with anyone right now..." She trailed off.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. I said no pressure, and here I am..."

"...Putting pressure on me. Don't worry about it. It's no worse than I put on myself." She let go of his hand and preceded him up the stairs.

"I don't understand why we can't, you know, hang out – or something." She could hear his voice close behind her.

"We _are _hanging out." She pointed out, over her shoulder

"Maybe I should rephrase that –"

She stopped and turned to face him, and, a step above him, they were nearly on eye-level. "Hang out without our clothes on?"

He colored. "That's one way to phrase it, I suppose."

"A physical relationship with no strings, no _involvement_?"

"I didn't mean that. Wait – unless you _want _that." He put his hands on her waist, and her pulse jumped.

She laughed and settled her arms on his shoulders, ignoring the voice in her head that told her to break away. "I don't think I want that from _you_, Dick."

"So you _don't_ want me." His face fell.

She let her head roll back. "No, I do. _God_, I do." She looked at him again. "I just don't want to be – your sex partner. I mean _only _your sex partner."

"But you _wouldn't _be. Look, I want to be _all in_."

"You did _not _just say that." She stepped away from him and started up the stairs again.

"What did I say?" He followed her.

"You want to be_ all in_."

He hit his forehead with his palm. "Shit. I didn't mean it like that. Man! I am just batting a thousand. I – I just meant that – I don't want to _just _have sex with you."

She stopped again and faced him. "And therein lies the problem."

"You're confusing me."

"I don't mean to. I guess - it's confusing me, too."

"But you're saying that a no-strings relationship sounds good?" He leaned his forehead against hers.

"What it _sounds _like is impossible." She was becoming intoxicated by his nearness, and she could feel herself falling towards him.

He turned his head slightly, and laid a feathery kiss near her ear.

"Dick..." She said softly, plaintively. "We can't."

"Why?" His voice was quiet, as well, and she felt his lips against her jaw.

She was quiet, and he took that as an assent, and kissed her beneath her ear, on her neck.

She gripped his wrists hard, and he changed sides, brushing his lips on her collarbone and then along the edge of her jawbone. "I – don't – think – that I – can – do this."

She was mesmerized by the sensations he was arousing, and she turned her face into him to do the same, her lips dragging over his skin.

"Do what?" He murmured, and, with her fingers still wrapped around his wrists, he slid his arms around her waist, and her hands gently twisted behind her back.

She let out a ragged breath when he bent his head to press a kiss to the notch of her collarbone, and she pulled her hands free to bury in his hair.

Sanity came flooding back to her in earnest then; she could not do this; she could not let herself take this step with him.

"Dick, no." She whispered in his ear. "No."

He heard the resolve in her voice, and he reluctantly stepped back.

"I'm sorry." And she was – very sorry. There was nothing more that she wanted, right now, than him. "I don't think that I can do that. You're not a friends-with-benefits kind of guy – not to me, anyway. You're more like a – forever guy. And I can't do that. Not right now." She impulsively put her hands on his cheeks. "I _am _really sorry."

"I can't believe that you're telling me that I'm _too _nice to screw."

She smiled sadly, taking no umbrage at his words. "You should try being a bad boy."

"Then you'd be all over me?"

She pushed a lock of hair from his eyes. "I like you the way you are. I just – can't right now."

He drew in a deep breath, then nodded. "Okay. I – I get it."

"If we'd met a year and a half from now, after I graduated..." _After Larry is out of my life..._

"But we didn't." He lifted the hair off her shoulder.

"I know. But I'm not asking you to wait."

"I know."

She touched his face briefly. "I think I need to walk home. I'll be safe. I promise."

"I really –"

"I know self-defense. I'll be fine."

He looked at her, and finally shifted his eyes. "Well – goodnight, then."

"We could still – _try _to be friends." She really didn't want him to walk out of her life.

"Without benefits." He sounded flat and disappointed.

"Yeah." Her voice was rueful.

"I guess we could – try. I can't guarantee success."

She smiled. "I know." She touched his cheek again. "So, maybe I'll see you – around."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Goodnight, then. Thanks for the movie, and everything. I had a really good time."

"You're welcome. But be – careful." He stepped out of her way.

"I will." She started back down the stairs, certain that his eyes were following her until she stepped out of sight.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I made Dick's maternal grandfather a tall sword swallower to account for his height in the show, and in general. I made that detail up, but it makes sense, in my opinion!

I hope you enjoyed Dick and Devon's date, in which they both end up hot and bothered and frustrated. I gave you only Devon's point of view because, otherwise, the chapter would be over twenty pages, which is probably too long.

However, I will post Dick's point of view in a BONUS chapter, which will be up sometime soon! Maybe I will hold it hostage until I get PROOF that you have ALL done your bit to save YJ! ; )

Now, if you haven't already, go BOMBARD Cartoon Network with support for Young Justice and Green Lantern!


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Notes: **I wanted to let you know that I posted Dick and Devon's date from HIS point of view in its own story, called "Shatter Me: A Date with Dick." I hope that you enjoy it. For all you YJ fans out there, as of Feb. 3, 2013, it's still being cancelled. HOWEVER, fans who have organized at tumblr are fighting hard to save it. You can look me up on my tumblr at sea-dilemma, or visit "headquarters" at helpsaveourheroes on tumblr. You can also call CN at 1 (877) 827-2671. Tweet your support at cartoonnetwork, CN's Facebook page, or on CN's viewer response e-mail page. If we work together, we can do it!

Back to "Shatter Me." There is a rather STRONG "T" in this chapter.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

Why, oh, why did this have to happen _now_?

Why did she have to meet someone like Dick _now_, when there was _no _way that she could have him? Did the universe hate her?

Two years she had gone without a decent guy in sight, and without being harassed by Larry. Now, in the space of two months, she had been recruited into her supposed _uncle's_ nefarious business dealings, and had met a great guy – a guy with whom she could see a future.

But no! She couldn't have him! She couldn't even kiss him!

Devon kicked viciously at an empty soda can on the street. She looked around her – she was about three blocks from home, and about the same from the parking garage where she had left Dick.

She almost wished someone would try to mug her. She could really use a good beatdown to let out her repressed frustration. Not that she was the greatest fighter in the world, but, thanks to Larry, she could hold her own – especially against the petty criminals that prowled this city at night.

Luckily for the petty criminals of Gotham, she arrived home without incident, and, after slamming the door, she stomped up the stairs to her apartment.

Her grandmother was sitting in the living room, watching some sort of British crime drama, although she turned when she heard Devon.

"How was the movie?"

"Fine." Devon snarled, ripped off her coat, and tossed it onto the floor.

Her grandmother looked her up and down. "You could have fooled me by your attitude."

"I have a bad attitude. I know. I'm entitled. My life sucks. Good night." She pulled off her t-shirt as she walked along, and, by the time she reached the bathroom shower, she was nude.

She blasted herself with cold water, but it did nothing to dampen the rampaging _frustration_, so she shampooed her head with unnecessary vigor, and scrubbed at her skin until she was red.

_God!_ She was so – what? Horny? Yeah, that was as good a word as any.

Dick was so gorgeous, and _nice_, and willing. She should be in bed with him right now, banging his brains out. Instead, she was standing alone in a shower, in intense discomfort.

Why couldn't she sleep with him? He had offered her no-strings-attached sex. Why couldn't she take him up on it?

_Because it won't end there. You'll end up in love with him and dragging him into this **mess** of a life. You can't do that to him. He has a **good **future, with a job lined up, and a family who loves him. And, to be frank, if Larry found out about him, there's no telling what might happen._

_And what about this whole Batman **mess**? If something happens – if you get caught, Dick will get stuck in the middle of it all – and **that **could ruin his life._

She laid her forearms against the shower stall and bowed her head. So no Dick Grayson for her. Some other lucky girl was going to get him.

"Shit." She lifted her face and turned all the hot water off to allow the cold water to shock her. She gave a small gasp and jumped, but she willed herself to bear it for a full minute.

She finally turned the water off, stepped from the stall, toweled herself off, and, wrapping the towel around her body, she went to her bedroom.

The room was far too stuffy. Her grandmother, always cold, had obviously turned up the heat in the apartment, and Devon walked over to the window and flung it open. Cold hair came flooding in, and it felt good against her heated skin. She leaned out to see whether she had any visitors, but the tree and the alley were both empty.

She pulled her head back in and dropped the towel on the floor. Naked, she padded to her bureau and grabbed an old t-shirt and a pair of panties.

She looked at the clock. It was nearing eleven. Good. She could go to sleep and put an end to this stupid, disappointing night.

She threw herself in bed and turned off the light, crossing her arms over her chest. No, she couldn't do that. Her breasts ached. _Everything _ached. There was a twisting in her loins that would not go away, and she knew why.

She turned on her side and put her pillow over her head.

It had been a mistake to go out with Dick at all. She had _known _that no good would come of it. She had just been torturing herself and him – getting them both turned on, and then turning it all off.

She _had _warned him, though. She had told them that they could only be friends – but, then, of course, she had spent _nine _hours getting to know him and cuddling with him and acting like they were a _couple_. And they weren't.

And they never could be.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Earlier That Night **

Luckily, when Dick entered the Batcave, it was empty, although Alfred's voice came through the intercom.

"Good evening, Master Richard. We weren't expecting you."

Dick pulled off his shirt as he walked over to the intercom monitor and switched it on. "Spur of the moment, Alfred."

The butler's face loomed into the camera. "I'm afraid Masters Bruce and Damian have already gone out for the night."

"Good. Because I wasn't here." He stepped out of his shoes and slid off his jeans.

"You do realize that Master Bruce will be informed of your arrival automatically by the computer?"

Dick peeled off his underwear, which felt entirely too oppressive. "And will also be informed of my departure."

"Will you be joining them on patrol?"

"Not tonight. I just want to be – left alone." He walked, nude, to the cabinet where his extra uniforms and weapons were kept.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Master Dick. I'll just –"

He pulled out his uniform and started to pull on the bottom. "Sorry, Alfred. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that –" He struggled to comfortably accommodate himself despite the apparently permanent semi-erection. "It's girl trouble."

"Oh, my, yes, I quite understand. Women do tend to be both the bane and blessing of men's lives."

Dick yanked his boots onto his feet. "Got any advice for me?"

"Heavens, no, Master Richard! As a confirmed bachelor, I have little high ground to stand upon regarding the subject of women."

Dick put on his uniform top. "Bruce is no good, either. He says that she's a distraction to me."

"Spoken like Batman."

"Isn't that the truth?" He buckled his utility belt and attached a pair of escrima sticks.

"Well, Master Dick, I think that you will always do well if you follow your heart."

Dick smiled, slid his wrist computer on his arm, and his comm in his ear. "I hope that you're right, Alfred." He put his cell phone in one of the pouches on his belt.

"Do be careful on patrol, Master Richard."

Dick shook his head as he put on his gloves. "I'm not going on patrol, Alfred."

"Oh, no?"

He affixed his mask. "Nope. I'm following my heart."

* * *

He landed in the branches outside her window silently, and immediately switched on the night vision optics in his mask. He thought that he saw her feet move beneath blankets at the end of the bed, and was relieved that she had gotten home safely.

He sat back against the trunk and sighed. Now that he had assured himself of her safety, he should go.

He _should _go, but he wasn't.

Why wasn't he? Why wasn't he, even at this moment, climbing down from the tree? What was he waiting for?

That was simple - he was waiting for something to happen. He wasn't sure what would happen, but, deep in his bones, he knew that _something_ would.

Movement in her room caught his eye, and he leaned forward slightly. She was apparently tossing and turning, and she brought her feet up towards the head of the bed. A few seconds later she lurched into view, and he was treated, for the second time, to a view of her clad only in a t-shirt and wispy panties, her hair down and messy from the pillow.

"_Crap_." He muttered, and ran his hand through his own hair, his body responding to her state of undress.

He watched as she left the room, and he felt acute disappointment. However, she was gone only a few minutes, and, when she returned, it was with a glass of water. She drank some and set the glass down on the bureau, and began rifling through the drawers until she found a small pair of sleep shorts, which, to Dick's dismay, she slipped on. She slammed the drawer perhaps a little harder than she should have, and the water glass fell over and tumbled down the front of the furniture.

"Shit!" She jumped back, and Dick leaned forward.

She turned to the window and reached down and grabbed a towel that had apparently been laying on the floor there.

She got down on her hands and knees, mopped up the liquid, stood, tossed the towel in a corner, set the glass back on the bureau, and stood motionless for a moment before walking to the window.

She leaned on the sill. "Hey, Nightmare. How many nights are you going to spy on me?"

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Earlier That Night **

_This is no good_, Devon thought, threw the covers off her torso, and sat upright in bed. She couldn't settle down. She wasn't tired and she wasn't sleepy. What she was was prickly and on edge. Every inch of skin was itchy and flushed, and she felt almost shaky.

She ran her hands through her hair and smacked the bed with both palms, angry and ill-tempered. She tossed the blankets aside and got up, intending to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water.

The kitchen light was on; her grandmother was still awake.

The older woman looked at her in astonishment. "You're nearly naked! You'll catch a cold!"

Devon grabbed a glass from the dish drainer and turned on the faucet. "That's an old wives' tale." She filled the glass, and, leaning back against the counter, nearly drained it.

"Put some clothes on – make an old woman happy."

Devon looked at her for a long moment. "Yeah, okay." She turned to refill the glass.

Her grandmother came up beside her and patted her shoulder. "I'm going to bed now. I can hardly keep my eyes open."

"Yeah, me, too."

She watched her grandmother walk out, and soon heard the old woman's bedroom door close.

Devon pushed off the counter and walked back to her room. The temperature was considerably lower there now, and she now saw the wisdom of putting more clothes on.

She walked to the bureau and set the glass on top, and began searching the drawers for something to wear. She found an old pair of _Hello Kitty _sleep shorts and pulled them out, and also uncovered the blouse that she had worn the day that she had gone for coffee with Dick, and that brought everything flooding back into her mind.

She slammed the drawer harder than she needed to, and the water glass teetered for a split second before spilling down the front of the bureau.

"Shit!" She jumped back, although not before she was splashed with cold water. She looked around for something to clean up the water, and saw the towel that she had dropped earlier, laying in front of the window where she had abandoned it. She scrambled over to it, and caught a quick flash of blue outside of her window.

_Son of a bitch_! She grabbed the towel and began mopping up the mess. Nightwing was outside her window _again_! What the hell did he want? She wiped down the front of the furniture.

Why was he here? Did he suspect her? She really had not thought it was possible that he connected her to the sniper attacks, but...

Was he there for some other reason? It seemed ludicrous, but why else would a man be outside a woman's window, night after night? _Really, Devon, you **think** he's peeping because he wants you_?

She intended to find out. She stood, threw the towel aside, put the glass on the dresser, and, after a moment of indecision, walked to the window.

She leaned on the sill. "Hey, Nightmare. How many nights are you going to spy on me?"

There was a rustle of leaves in one of the trees, and she saw him shift on the branch. "I'm not spying. And you know it's _Nightwing_." His voice was deep and sexy.

She ignored it – she was tired of playing games with him. "Whatever. And I call sitting on a branch outside someone's window for two weeks _spying_."

He sounded terse. "I was _protecting _you."

Her eyes grew wide. _My ass! _"From what? Cold air?"

"From –" he sighed. "Never mind."

"So, stalk much?" She recklessly asked.

He stood on the branch. "I get it. I'm going."

She seized the moment, and her own momentary bravery. "No. Come in. If you want to, that is. I understand you have quite a special relationship with that branch and all." She _really _was feeling reckless.

A smile broke out on his face. "It _has_ been between my legs for weeks."

She reddened at the innuendo, but stepped back, and he swung in, landing in front to her. He seemed taller than she remembered, with impossibly broad shoulders and a body that looked sculpted from stone, all hard planes and angles.

He smiled, showing even, white teeth, and a streak of mischief.

They looked at each other for a long moment. The ire faded from her face as quickly as the smile faded from his, to be replaced by something less obvious.

She was not sure who made the first move, but she did know that they burst at each other, all lips and hands and questing fingers.

He tasted _incredible_; his body felt _incredible_. Everything that had been locked up inside her for two years, and all the sensations that Dick had awakened in her, exploded within her, clawing to get out.

Pressed up against him, his arms tight around her body, his hands on the small of her back, urging her closer, she felt his erection, and now knew, without a doubt, why he had been watching her all of these weeks.

He slid his hands in the back of her panties, and she felt the roughness of his gloves against her skin. She tore her mouth from his. "Gloves." She replaced her mouth on his while he followed her directions and pulled the gloves off behind her back.

She thrust her hands through his hair, attempting to draw him closer. His tongue pushed though her lips and she opened her mouth obediently to allow him access.

He growled deep in his throat and slid his hands within her clothing, cupping her bare buttocks.

"This is crazy." She breathed against his mouth.

"Do you want to stop?" He grabbed her earlobe in his teeth and sucked on it.

Liquid desire pooled in her loins. "No." She fumbled between them, and felt the barrier of his utility belt. "Belt." He unsnapped it and it fell to the floor with a clang. She slipped her hands inside the waistband of his tights, but he stilled her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, pulling away, and her hands fluttered to her side. She had a vision of Dick for a moment, but she blinked it away. Dick wasn't here, but Nightwing was.

"Yes. God, _yes._" She _needed _this. She needed _him_.

That was all the invitation _he_ needed. He pulled her into his arms, enfolding her in a grip that was a bit painful, although she didn't care. She managed to get her hands under his uniform top, and began urging it off.

It caught on his watch, and he clumsily pulled it off and tossed it to the floor, followed by a bluetooth device in his ear. They finally peeled his uniform top off and it was flung across the room, joined a moment later by her t-shirt. She marveled at him for just a moment. His chest was hairless and very well-defined, with chiseled pectoral muscles and a strong, flat abdomen that she ached to touch.

In return, he stared at her, as if flummoxed by what to do next. A slow smile came to her face, and she stepped closer, putting her hands on his head and guiding him to her breasts. His mouth was warm and his tongue hard, and against her highly-stimulated breasts, it was exquisite agony. She gave a low groan and allowed her head to fall back, exposing her throat. His hands slid to the small of her back again and he lavished attention on each breast in turn, and then worked his way up her neck to her mouth.

She slid her fingers into the top of his uniform pants and began tugging them down, freeing his erection and pushing him back onto the bed. She grabbed his calf and pulled each boot off in turn while he watched, magnificent and impressive in his nudity, a smile on his face.

"I like strong women." He kicked off the remainder of his clothes.

She gave a wolfish smile. "Good." She shoved her underwear down, stepped out of them, and climbed onto the bed, straddling him. She crawled up to him, and her hands reached for the covering on his eyes.

He grabbed her wrists. "The mask stays."

_Really? So that's how you want to play it, Nightwing? _She thought to herself. _Well, you can make the rules, but it's still my game. _

A half-smile curved her lips. "I like mysterious men."

He grabbed her face and brought it close to his.

"Good."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Earlier That Night**

Nightwing looked with dismay at Devon as she leaned on the window. He stretched one of his legs. "I'm not spying. " He altered his voice so that she would not recognize it. "And you know it's _Nightwing_." He was a little peeved that she had purposely said his name wrong.

She seemed annoyed. "Whatever. And I call sitting on a branch outside someone's window for two weeks _spying_."

_Shit_! She had seen him before tonight? Oh, his stealth skills needed some tuning up. Thank God Bruce wasn't here; Bruce would _kill _him for letting himself be discovered. "I was _protecting _you." It was a lie, and he suspected that she knew it.

Her eyes grew wide. "From what? Cold air?"

"From –" he sighed, then decided not to bother. He had been caught, red-handed. "Never mind."

"So, stalk much?" There was a strange tone in her voice, and he wondered at it.

He stood on the branch. _Time to end this idiocy, _he thought. _It was wrong, and now it's over_. "I get it. I'm going."

"No. Come in." Her words froze him. "If you want to, that is. I understand you have quite a special relationship with that branch and all."

A smile broke out on his face. She shouldn't have said that. She thought that she was talking to Nightwing, taciturn crime fighter, but it was actually Dick Grayson – smooth talker – she was sparring with. "It _has_ been between my legs for weeks."

She stepped back, and he swung in and landed in front to her. Standing there, looking at him with eyes that softened from anger to passion, his own smile melted away.

He made a move forward, and, suddenly, they were all over each other, his lips and hands on her skin, her mouth on his face.

All of the fantasies that he had had about her came flooding back, and he imagined acting on all of them now. He slipped his hands around her waist and to the small of her back, and he pressed her against him. She made a small murmur of pleasure, and he settled his thumbs in the dimples above her butt. He slid his hands down her back and into the tops of her panties, and she stiffened.

"Gloves." She murmured, and kissed him again as he yanked them off.

She shoved her hands through his hair and drew him closer, and his tongue slipped between her lips.

He growled deep in his throat and cupped her bare buttocks in his hands. His legs almost collapsed beneath him – this was better than his fantasies.

"This is crazy." She breathed against his mouth.

He tried to be sane; tried to give her a way out if she wanted it. "Do you want to stop?" _Please don't say yes_. He grabbed her earlobe in his teeth and sucked on it – after all, he didn't really want to convince her to take a way out.

"No." He felt her hands between them. "Belt." He fumbled with the clasp of his belt, and it dropped to the floor. He felt her fingers inside his waistband, and he grabbed her hands. He had to give her another chance to change her mind.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He stepped away, and her hands fell.

Her eyes were unfocused with passion. "Yes. God, _yes._"

Relief washed over him.

He pulled her back into his arms, and felt her hands under his uniform top, pulling it up.

He had to remove his wrist computer to remove the top, and he also had the forethought to remove his ear comm. God knows he didn't want it to go off in the middle of sex!

He finally shed his shirt, and tossed it across the room. Then, with two pairs of fumbling hands, her t-shirt was off and thrown aside.

He looked at her for a long moment, certain that he was staring. This was more than he had even dreamed. He remembered, incongruously, his first time with Zatanna – he had been fifteen and she sixteen, in her room at Mount Justice. But she had been just a girl, coltish and thin, and Devon was a woman, with full breasts that his fingers itched to caress. Standing there, gaping at her, he wasn't sure what to do or where to start. He felt like a little boy on Christmas morning, confronted with a pile of gifts, not knowing which to unwrap first.

She gave him a long smile, and reached out, taking his head between her hands and bringing him to her breasts.

She was warm and soft, and he thought that he would die of ecstasy. She gave a low groan and allowed her head to fall back, exposing her throat. His hands slid to the small of her back and he suckled each breast in turn, enjoying the sweetness of her skin, and the hardness of her nipples in his mouth. He worked his way back up to her mouth, and he kissed her with a frenzied intensity.

He felt her fingers slide into the top of his uniform pants and she pulled them down nearly to his knees, exposing his erection. He thought that he saw her look at it for a moment, and, then, she was pushing him back onto the bed. He fell back against the mattress, and she slid off both his boots, one after another, while he watched her, a smile on his face.

"I like strong women."

Her smile was ravening. "Good." She shoved her underwear down, and his pulse jumped. She stood before him, wide hipped and lush, and he had never wanted another woman more than he did her at that moment. He wanted to bury himself in her forever, and hear his name on her lips, and watch her face as he pushed her to satisfaction. She gave a small smile again, and climbed onto the bed, straddling him. She crawled up to him, and her hands reached for the covering on his eyes.

He grabbed her wrists. "The mask stays." He was Nightwing, and Nightwing he had to stay. She had apparently not figured out any connection between Dick Grayson and Nightwing, and he was relieved by that. If she ever found out that they were the same person, she could be in extreme danger. And that was something that he would not allow. There was already danger inherent in sleeping with Nightwing, but it would be exponential if any of his enemies discovered that she could identify him. Besides, she had already said no to a relationship with _Dick_.

So, for now, he had to remain anonymous.

A half-smile curved her lips. "I like mysterious men."

He grabbed her face in both hands and brought it close to his, and ran his thumb over her bottom lip.

"Good."

* * *

She slid off into a heap on the floor, and fell back against the cold floorboards, staring up at the ceiling. Her heart began to slow to normal, and she let out a deep, satisfied breath. She turned and looked at Nightwing, lying next to her, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

There was silence for several seconds as they recovered.

He finally tuned on his side on his side to face her, "You know, at the risk of sounding clichéd, that was pretty –" he smiled, "amazing." His voice was a bit gravelly, and Devon found it very, very sexy.

She smiled back, and stretched her arms above her head. "That's an accurate description."

He turned his head to the bed. "How did we end up on the floor?"

She gave a low laugh. "I'm not entirely sure. I remember _rolling _off at some point."

He splayed his hand over her ribcage. "You know, now that you mention it, I sort of – remember that, too." He leaned over and kissed her, and she smiled against his mouth.

She turned into him, and his arms came around her. He settled himself fully against her and his tongue went into her mouth.

She purred and wrapped her arms around his torso. She shouldn't be doing this; she shouldn't be lying here with this man – this _stranger_. This wasn't her – she had never had anonymous sex in her life. But _something _had compelled her to reach out to this man, and she wasn't sure what it was. It was true that an underlying, deep physical _need_ seemed to have taken over her, but she really should have given in to her desires with Dick, since it was he who had brought those desires to the surface.

But she hadn't. She hadn't, and she couldn't even regret it, because what had happened with Nightwing had been – spectacular.

The fact that she was obligated by Larry to shoot at him on a regular basis was something she was going to ignore – for now.

His arms around her stiffened. "Shit." His voice was low.

Her lips, on his neck, felt the rumble of the words in his throat. "What is it?"

"I didn't wear a condom." There was suppressed anger in his voice, and she pulled away. "Damn it." He put his hand on his forehead. "I don't suppose you're on the pill?"

She was slow in answering. "No. I actually haven't needed birth control for a long time. A very long time." She thought on it for an extended moment. "I think we're okay, though. The – timing isn't right."

"I'm – I'm really sorry. I should have – kept my head about me."

She smothered a laugh. "Did you _hear_ what you just said?"

In spite of his anger at himself, he smiled. "Poor choice of words."

"Don't worry." Her mouth closed over his Adam's apple. "The timing is off – I'm sure of it."

"Ah, I'm glad."

"Hmm. Me, too." Her tongue tasted the salt on his skin.

He chuckled and threaded his fingers through her hair. "We should be more careful in the future."

She pulled away to look at him, although, with the mask in place, she could not read his emotions. "Are – are we doing this again?"

He nervously ran his hands up and down her naked arms. "Uh, if – if you want to."

A slow smile spread across her face. "I – I guess that depends."

"Depends?"

"On whether or not there's a Mrs. Nightwing and a bunch of _winglets_ out there."

He laughed, a rich, deep laugh. "Nope."

"No girlfriend?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Good." She nipped at one of his pectorals, and he made a contented sound in his throat. "Since we're on a little bit of background history, I should probably ask about..." She didn't know how to approach the subject.

"I don't do well answering _history _questions." He warned her, and wondered if this relationship would die as it was being born. God, he hoped not. This is what he had wanted since he had first laid eyes on her in the student union. However, he needed to clear it up before they got in any further. "And, well, I _can't_. So, _this_ is it. What we have here – now. I can't tell you who I am or even what I look like."

She shook her head. "I don't need to know your life story. To be honest, this is the only way for me, too. I mean, not the whole secret identity thing, but I – respect that. I just can't have someone in my life who I'm – responsible to on, you know, an _emotional _level."

"Oh." He was actually surprised. He hadn't expected this. In fact, he had thought, after what they had done, that she would ask for more from him. _Why the hell would you think that, Dick? She turned you down for that three hours ago_.

"I have too much on my plate to have a boyfriend."

"Oh." That seemed to be all that he could bring forth.

She continued. "About your – history, I just wanted to make sure that you're – _clean._"

"Cl – clean?" He realized that he sounded like an idiot.

"Oh, God, you're going to make me ask it, aren't you?" She could feel a blush come over her skin. _Funny, Devon. You didn't blush when you were banging him, but you're blushing __**now**_!

"Ask what?" He was truly puzzled now.

"Is there anything I should know?" She hoped he would get the idea. He was silent, and she sighed. "No diseases or anything?"

He understood suddenly, and it was his turn to redden. "Oh. Oh, that. No. Yeah, I'm clean."

"And you wouldn't lie to me, right? Public servant, and all?"

"Well, I don't typically _serve _the public in this way."

She laughed. "I _am _glad about that." She laid her head on his chest.

He rubbed her back with his hands, his thoughts wandering. "So, we can do this again?"

She smiled, and he could feel it against skin. "You mean right now or _in the future_?"

"Uh, both?"

She crossed her arms on his chest and pushed herself up to look at him. "Well, _in the future_, if my window's open, you can come in."

"Won't you get cold with your window open all the time?" He teased.

"You're awfully confident at your welcome, aren't you?"

"Well, since I was here a couple of minutes ago, when you said, and I quote, '_oh, my God, don't stop_,' I feel comfortable in my confidence."

"Damn. Showed my hand too soon, didn't I?" She bit her lip in mock consternation.

His chest rumbled with laughter. "I think my very eloquent response of 'O_h, baby! Yes! Shit! Yes!' _was no less revealing."

"I can make you say other things, too."

He was intrigued. "Can you?"

"Oh, yes." Her voice was playful.

"Can we do it on the bed this time?"

"Why? Your back hurt?"

"I think I have a little bit of a rug burn."

"From my tiny bedside rug?" She asked teasingly, and he reflected on how much he was enjoying this – not just the sex, which was _incredible_, but just being with her, talking.

"It felt yards wide when I was sliding up and down on it." He remarked.

"I thought superheroes were supposed to be _tough_."

He grinned and, with a quick movement, was on his feet with her in his arms. "I _am_ tough." He tossed her onto the bed, and she gave a small shriek.

"Quiet." He hissed. "Don't you live with your grandmother?"

She clapped her hands over her mouth, and she nodded, trying not to giggle. She had forgotten all about her grandmother. She uncovered her mouth. "Lock the door."

He did as she bade, and, returning to bed, he put a knee onto the mattress. "Ready for round two?"

She blinked, and a moment of recognition went through her. She thought that she had heard those words from him before, but, dismissing it as deja vu, she smiled and reached for him.

"I'm ready if you are."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Well, I can't believe I got Dick and Devon together before Lan Chi and Zuko (from my other fanfic)! Well, Dick and Devon do live in the 21st century, when people aren't so - uptight about sex. I hope you enjoyed it. It was a little - racier than I intended. Sorry about that.

I think I will be leaving behind the he said/she said for a while - since they're together (in a manner of speaking).

As to the future, it should be interesting to find out how Dick will keep Devon from finding out his true identity...

I promise you, it will be fun!

Please review!


	20. Chapter 20

**Gotham City**

**Early the Next Morning**

Dick came to wakefulness suddenly, and, for a brief, wild moment, wondered where he was.

Memories came back to him in a flood, and he smiled. He looked down at Devon, curled against him, asleep, and his smile grew wider.

Good. It hadn't been a dream. He was actually here – in her bed. Her tiny, single bed.

It was okay, though. It gave him an excuse to curl around her, an excuse to hold her tightly.

But now he had to go. The clock next to him said three-thirty, and, although it was Sunday, and few people would be out on the streets early, he knew that, the longer he waited to go, the higher the chance that he would be seen.

He gently shifted her out of his arms and got up. Her room was in darkness; he touched the optics on his mask, and the room's details came into focus. He found his boots easily, but the lower half of his uniform remained missing until he got on his hands and knees and searched under the bed.

He pulled the bottom on, followed by his boots, and began a search for the rest of his clothes.

He recovered the upper half from atop her bureau and put it on, followed by his utility belt, wrist computer, ear comm, and gloves.

She slept on, and he walked back to the bed and looked down at her. In repose, her features were softened, and she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her. His heart took a painful lurch, and he knew, without a doubt, that he was in love with her. No use denying it to himself anymore.

He sighed. Everything was backward now. He had slept with her as Nightwing, and not as Dick Grayson – and Nightwing didn't have a future with this girl. Maybe Dick Grayson didn't, either. After all, she had made that perfectly clear _several _times. Maybe this was all that he would ever get.

And, for now, it had to be enough.

He squatted down next to the bed, and touched her cheek. "Devon," he whispered. "Wake up, love."

She made a sound of protest, and her eyes remained closed. He removed his glove to touch her with his bare fingertips, and her eyes fluttered open.

A sleepy smile came to her face when she focused on him.

He smiled in return. "I have to go, but I didn't want to leave without telling you."

She stretched, and looked to the window. "It's still dark."

"I know. But I don't think it's a good idea to wait until daylight to leave."

"Hmm." Her smile became mischievous. "Can't very well sneak out of my bedroom in a black body suit when the sun's up."

"Something like that." He smiled back.

She sat up, and the covers fell, revealing her naked torso. "Will I see you again?"

He nodded. Wild horses could not keep him away from her if she wanted him. "Soon."

"Good." She grabbed his shoulders and brought him in for a kiss.

His arms went around her, and she began to lie back on the bed, wanting him again.

He started to become erect, but, despite that, he released her slowly. "As much as I want to stay, I really have to go."

She sighed, and bent her arms behind her head, making her breasts more prominent.

He stole a look at them, and grinned. "You make it very hard."

"Everything?"

"Oh, yes. _Definitely _everything." He brushed her hair back from her face. "Go back to sleep."

"Alone?" She _really _didn't want him to go.

"You'll sleep better if you don't have me taking up the entire bed."

"I don't mind."

"Me, neither, but I've already stolen enough of your rest. And since you don't have to get up at five this morning, you might actually get a nice, long night."

She smiled at him. "I _am _a little tired."

"Wonder why."

"I think I can guess." She touched his hand briefly. "Swing carefully."

"I will." He gave her one last, lingering kiss, and with an expression full of regret, he crossed the room and went out the window, closing it behind him.

Slumber started to overcome Devon, and she curled on her side, allowing her eyes to close. Her last thought, as she drifted off, was a question: how exactly did Nightwing know what time she usually woke?

* * *

Dick whistled quietly as he retrieved his motorcycle from where he had concealed it. He really should take it back to the Batcave, but he didn't feel like facing Bruce and Damian. Bruce was certain to notice his extremely buoyant mood, and Dick didn't want to tell him about Devon yet. Actually, he didn't want to tell Bruce _ever_. He knew that Bruce would frown on all of it; he would say that Dick was taking advantage of his position of trust. And maybe he was – she had known Nightwing as her rescuer, and maybe some of that gratitude had been part of the reason she had slept with him. Or maybe she had slept with him because she had really wanted Dick, and couldn't have him.

_Maybe?_ He asked himself incredulously. _That was 100% the reason she slept with you_! _You're her second choice – behind **yourself**_! He frowned. This was confusing. She had probably only slept with him because she couldn't have _him?_

_Let's try this again, _he thought. She only slept with _Nightwing_ because she didn't want to get emotionally involved with _Dick_. So she was really using Nightwing as a substitute for Dick. So, in other words, she was using him as a stand-in for himself.

_She's cheating on me with – me. Wait_. _She isn't dating me, so how is she **cheating** on me_?

His head was spinning. He got on the freeway to Blüdhaven, gave the cycle acceleration, and was soon at his own exit. As he drove through familiar streets, his mind was still on the conundrum of Devon's decision. He was ecstatic that they were finally lovers, but he had wanted her to be _Dick's _girlfriend, not Nightwing's. A relationship as Nightwing was a lot harder – true, he had a mask to hide behind, but he didn't know if he _wanted_ to hide behind it. And to try to remember everything he was supposed to hide – well, it was true that he had been doing it a long time, and he had had a _lot _of experience hiding his identity from his friends, but he had only ever done it _once _before with someone who knew both Dick _and_ Nightwing, or Robin, as he had been then, and that had been Artemis. And she had been a teammate – and Wally's girlfriend. Not someone he was sleeping with.

Shit. Life had suddenly become a _lot _more complicated. As if it hadn't been before.

He came to the entrance to the private garage beneath his building, and pushed a button that opened the door. He slid into it, and, after closing the entrance behind him, rode down to the secure lock-up. After parking the bike and changing into street clothes, he rode the elevator up to the lobby, and then changed elevators for the ride to his apartment.

When he let himself into his place, he found Jason already up watching the early news, a cup of coffee in his hand.

Dick smiled as his brother lifted his free hand in a greeting. "Dude! You're up early."

Jason shrugged. "And you're home late."

To Dick's surprise, he blushed, which was not lost on Jason.

The younger man smiled knowingly. "You were _not _patrolling, were you?"

Dick tried to keep his expression guileless. "Yeah, I was. Of course." He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of milk.

"Yeah, sure. Look at me."

Dick chose a cereal and poured it into a bowl, followed by the milk, and looked at his brother expectantly. "What?"

"Tell me again that you were patrolling."

There was a brief flicker of Dick's lids before he answered. "I was patrolling."

A broad smile crossed Jason's face. "You were dipping your wick!"

Dick tried to bury his face in his cereal, and Jason started laughing.

"Oh, my God! Dick Grayson! You had _sex_ last night!"

Dick tried to keep the smile from his face, and, when it finally appeared, Jason went off into whoops of laughter. "Who was it? Barbara?"

Dick shook his head, and brought his cereal over to the living room. He threw himself into the easy chair. "No. It was _not_ Barbara."

"So, who then? Do I know her?"

"No."

"She hot?"

He smiled as he chewed his cereal. "Oh, yeah. She's hot."

"Of course she is."

Dick frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that _you_ have never dated an ugly chick in your life."

Dick started to laugh, and nearly choked. "Wow. That was enlightened."

Jason held up both hands. "I call them like I see them."

Dick shrugged. "I'll plead guilty because I happen to think that all of my girlfriends are beautiful."

"That's because they _are_."

"Well, so's this one." His face darkened. "Although I don't know if I could call her my _girlfriend_."

"Is it a guy?"

"What?! No! I think we already established that _she's_ female."

"So – what?" Jason thought on it. "Oh, wait. One-night stand?"

"No. I – don't do that." He didn't mean to sound so – sanctimonious.

"So what was Bette Kane?"

Dick pointed at him with his spoon. "A _very _short relationship. Hey, how did you find out about that? You weren't even around."

"Tim talks a lot."

Dick reddened. "Yeah, well, I'm going to have to _talk _to Tim."

"He only talks because he's impressed. He's never been the chick magnet."

"I'm not a chick magnet."

"Whatever. So you just met this girl?"

"No. I've known her for a couple of months."

"Just started banging her, though?"

"No! Yes! Shit! I'm not _banging _her!"

"You had sex with her?"

"Yeah."

"Then you're banging her." He held his hand up before Dick could argue. "What's the big deal? You didn't _pay _her or anything, did you?"

"No, of course not."

"So why so mysterious?'

Mysterious – the same word Barbara had used to Wally.

Dick looked at his brother seriously. He really wanted to confide in someone about his predicament with Devon; someone who wouldn't be judgmental – which left Wally out. And Jason was like Roy – neither held him to the impossibly high standards that Bruce, and Barbara, and Wally, among others, did.

He sighed. "I – _have_ known her for a couple of months."

"Yeah. You said."

"I met her at the university."

"So?"

"But she turned _Dick_ down."

"Why are you talking in the third person? It's kind of creepy."

"I mean that she said she couldn't get involved with _me_ – with Dick Grayson."

"Okay." Jason looked puzzled.

"But she _could _be involved with Nightwing."

"Bro, just come right out and say it – whatever the hell _it_ is."

"I – slept with her as _Nightwing_, not as Dick."

Enlightenment came over Jason's face. "Oh, _shit_. She doesn't know that Dick and Nightwing are the same person!"

"No."

"Oh, shit." Jason repeated, his jaw hanging open. "So she _knows _Dick Grayson, and she knows _Nightwing_, but she doesn't know it's the same person, and she turned _Dick _down, but she _slept _with _Nightwing_."

Dick looked at him, chagrined. "Yeah."

"Dude, you got _owned_!"

"What?"

"She turned down the _real you_, but she banged _Nightwing_, like you weren't worth it as Dick, but you are as Nightwing. Oh! Damn!" He fell back against the sofa, raucous laughter shaking the walls, and Dick turned brick red.

"This really _isn't _funny."

"No, it is!" Jason wiped his eyes.

Dick put his empty cereal bowl aside and laid his head back against the chair to stare up at the ceiling. He felt Jason punch him lightly in the arm.

"Don't worry about it, big bro. You're getting the last laugh, because, even if she doesn't know it, she's playing 'hide the bone' with Dick Grayson."

"Oh, shit." He put his hands on his head. "That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Why not?" Jason put his feet up on the table.

"Because I _really _like her, Jase. I like her for more than sex."

All merriment disappeared from Jason's face. "That sucks. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

"Are you gonna quit?"

"Quit what?"

"Screwing her?"

"I don't want to."

"Then, brother, _you _are screwed."

"Yeah." Dick's voice was flat. "I guess I am."

"So what was wrong with Dick that she didn't want him – you?"

"She said she couldn't get involved with anyone right now."

"So why didn't you just become friends-with-benefits?"

"She turned that down, too."

"Oh."

"What do I do?"

"You're asking _me_? I am _not_ a ladies' man, Dickie."

"Neither am I, apparently."

"And you're _sure _she doesn't know you're Nightwing?"

"No."

Jason was silent for a moment. "How _does _she know Nightwing, anyway? And how is it that you ended up sleeping with her?"

Dick colored again. "Uh, well, I – uh – rescued her, when a burglar broke in." He ignored the fact that she had actually rescued herself.

"Oh, _that _is a good one! Does Bruce know you're sleeping with a vic you rescued?"

"No! And he'd be pissed if he did."

Jason drew in a deep, satisfied breath. "That's funny."

Dick threw him an indignant look. "I'm glad _you _think so."

"So – what? I don't get it. You said you met her at the university. How did you end up rescuing her from a burglar?"

"Uh, well, I was – kind of – watching her."

Jason's eyes widened. "Shit. This gets better and better. You were _spying_ on her?"

"Not really _spying_. Just, you know, making sure she was safe – and stuff."

"How were you were 'making sure she was safe?'"

Dick was slow in answering. "I _may _have sat outside her bedroom window in a tree."

"Oh, my God! Were you whacking off?"

"What?! No! Of course not!"

"Don't act so high and mighty! Dude, you're the one who's been _peeping_!"

Dick opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Jason was right. "Yeah. I just didn't – know what to do when she brushed me off."

"Well, you're not brushed off now."

"I just wish I – knew how she _really _feels about me – about _Dick_. About me." He tried correcting himself, and shook his head in confusion. "She turned me down – _Dick _down – and so that must mean that she really doesn't want me that much – even though she said that she _did." _He blinked his eyes several times. "I just wish I knew if I – if _Dick _ever has a chance with her."

"So ask her."

"I can't ask her." He shook his head again.

"Why not?"

"When should I ask her? While we're in bed? '_By the way,'" _he mimicked a conversation with Devon, "'_what do you think of my good friend, Dick Grayson_?'"

Jason looked thoughtful. "I see your point. Can't you ask her at school? When you're Dick?"

"I only see her at school randomly. But – I guess I could talk to her at the diner."

"She works at a diner?"

"Yeah. Waitress. You'd like it. It has _really _good burgers. And pancakes."

"Oh, yeah? Why don't we go today?"

"What? Go today?" He panicked before remembering that the diner was closed on the weekends. "We can't. It's only open Mondays through Fridays."

"So, we'll go tomorrow. For breakfast."

Dick wasn't sure that he wanted to go with Jason. His brother could be – mischievous sometimes. "Don't you have to work?"

"Nah. I've got a day off."

"You've only been working _three _days, and you had yesterday and today off."

"Yeah, well, the CEO is going to Canada and I don't have a passport, so I get to stay home. You have _no _idea how hard it is to get a passport when you've been declared dead."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Morning**

A knocking finally pulled Devon from sleep, and she sat up with a jerk. Sunlight was coming in through the window, and she looked at her clock. 9:30!

"Devon! Your door's locked. Is everything okay?" Her grandmother's voice came through the door, and Devon jumped up, searching frantically for her clothes.

"Everything's fine, Grandma!"

"Can I come in?"

"What? Uh, sure, I guess. Hang on!" She found her underwear and slid it on, and found her t-shirt in a corner. After pulling it on, she unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hey, Grandma, what – what's going on?" She tried to block her grandmother from the room – she had no idea if Nightwing had left anything behind, and she _surely _could not let her see it.

"I was just worried. You're _always_ up by this time."

"Oh, well, I was –" _banging a superhero_. "Studying late."

"Oh, well. Good for you. Are you feeling better this morning?"

She panicked – did her grandmother _know_? "What? Why? Of course! Why do you ask?"

Her grandmother gave her an odd look. "You were in a bad mood last night, remember? Your life sucked?"

Devon let out a sigh of relief. "Right. Yeah, I remember. No, no, it's – better now." _God, yes_! _ It's __**much **__better_!

"Well, good." She smiled. "I don't like to see you unhappy."

"Oh. I'm not – unhappy. Really."

"I'm glad." She frowned. "Why aren't you letting me in?"

"What? Oh, oh, no reason. It's just that my room – is – messy! _So_ messy!"

"I don't care, you silly child." She gestured with her hand for Devon to step back.

Devon stepped aside reluctantly with a quick prayer heavenward.

Her grandmother walked in and looked around. "It's not so bad. Just," she sniffed the air, "an odd smell."

_Oh, shit_, Devon thought. _It smells like sex_. _Please don't recognize it. Please, please, please, please._

Her grandmother did not. She smiled at her granddaughter instead, and, with an admonition to open the window to get fresh air, she was gone.

Devon shut the door behind her grandmother gratefully, and leaned against it. It had been a close call.

She walked back to the bed and, with one look, pulled the sheets off. They would need to be washed.

Especially if she had a visitor that night.

Humming, she carried the linens to the laundry room, reliving, in her mind, every moment of the night before. His words, his touch, his scent, his kisses, his body – oh, his body. It was incredible. Beyond incredible. It was _magnificent_.

She rarely did things like she did last night – no, she _never_ did things like last night. She had never slept with anyone that she had only exchanged a dozen or so words with. In fact, she had only ever slept with two other guys, and both of them after only months of dating.

But this – this _impulsive_ decision to _throw _herself at him, to practically _seduce_ him – this was not her. At least it never had been.

But, oh, the _things_ that he had done to her last night – the things that they had done together, and the things that she _wanted_ to do.

She smiled to herself. She needed to go to the pharmacy later.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hope that you enjoyed this chapter - the aftermath of Devon and Dick's impulsive night together. I also hope that you enjoyed Dick's little talk with his brother. Jason is the character who is unafraid of saying things and asking things, and it's very liberating to write for him. He also represents, in some ways, the audience, because he asks the questions that the reader might ask. Is Dick gay? Was it a one-night stand? Wouldn't Batman be mad that Nightwing slept with a victim whom he had rescued? Isn't Dick angry that he wasn't "good enough" to sleep with, but that Nightwing, Dick's alter ego is? That will continue to be Jason's role in the fic...for a little while, at least. Big things are ahead for him.

We will also be seeing more of the extended YJ family - Roy, Wally, Artemis, Tim, Barbara, and even Jade has a role to play. I hope that you will stick around for that.

For those of you interested, we are still working on saving DC Nation (Young Justice and Green Lantern). For further information, go to tumblr and search the Young Justice tag or go to the blog entitled "helpsaveourheroes." You should also go to CN's Facebook and Twitter pages and ask for the shows to be renewed. The best way to save the show may be through your wallet, so if you have a couple of extra bucks, you can buy the episodes on iTunes or Amazon. Even those in foreign countries can download from iTunes if you have an American to "gift" it to you. if you'd like help on that, PM me.

Regarding my Avatar/Zuko fic, I am a little behind on that, so I extend a mea culpa on missing today's (Feb 10) posting. I had actually written the chapter, but realized that I needed to move the events to another chapter. It will be up next week, I promise!

Thank you for reading the fic and these notes. Please review if you liked the chapter. If you didn't, review anyway! ; )


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Notes: **Kind of a strong "T" in this chapter.

Also, some of you may know that I experienced a death in the family this week, and, as of this posting (2/17/13), I am 2000+ miles away from home, dealing with that. As a result, _The Spirit Within _will not be updated today. _Shatter Me_, however, has 10 chapters in reserve, so I can still post this week's. Posting is actually about all I have time for - although I was able to watch this week's YJ episode. It was very good, and I hope that you are all continuing your efforts to save the show!

* * *

Dick sat on top of the building next to Devon's, watching her curtains blow in the wind. Her window was open; that meant that she was – available for visitors. Well, _visitor_, singular.

He was nervous, and he didn't know why he should be. After all, this was not like last night, when everything was unknown. Tonight, she expected him, and she _welcomed _him.

So why was he sitting a couple of hundred feet away, in the cold, instead of in her bed? Part of it was definitely a result of the discussion that he had had with Jason. His brother had not really _said _anything that had caused Dick's insecurity; rather, it was his own uncertainty about separating Dick from Nightwing in this relationship. _Was_ he being unfair to Devon by keeping his identity from her? Obviously, had she known that Dick and Nightwing were the same person, last night would have ended differently.

He firmly pushed those thoughts away – she wanted him, and he wanted her, and that was the end of it.

For now, at least.

He launched a jump line into the top of the tree and swung over to it.

* * *

Devon sat nervously on her bed, drumming on her thighs, waiting anxiously for Nightwing to come. Would he come? He hadn't _said_ that he would; maybe she was just sitting here for nothing, waiting in a cold room.

She sighed. Maybe this was crazy. She was now sleeping with a man who she was targeting as prey. This was wrong – on so many levels. She was hiding something – something important – something that would jeopardize their relationship. Something that _could_ jeopardize his life.

She should tell him the truth.

She should, but she wouldn't.

_Anyway, it's not as if he's being all that honest with you. After all, **he **won't even take off his damn mask!_

She sighed. She didn't even care.

She heard the window being lifted higher, and she jumped off the bed just as his face appeared.

"Knock, knock." His voice held what sounded like uncertainty.

"You came." She smiled as he stepped through the window.

He straightened to his full height and looked down at her. "Is that – okay?" He remembered to deepen his voice.

"Oh, yes." She reached for him, and, like the night before, that was all it took. Within minutes they were naked and on her bed, and his mouth was closed on one of her breasts.

His hand snaked down and he began to stroke her, eliciting a moan that may have been a bit too loud.

"Shhhhhhh." He said, softly, his mouth close to her ear.

Devon's eyes tried to focus on his face. "She's asleep. I checked."

"Door locked?"

"Yes." She could barely speak now as the sensations began exploding within her. She tipped her head back and gave him access to her throat, and felt his tongue move across her flesh to nip at her collarbone.

She reached down and wrapped her hand around him, and felt him jerk.

"Wait," he gasped, and, leaving her, scrambled for his utility belt. She sat up, dazed, and watched as he fumbled through the pouches.

"We – we need _gadgets_?" She asked incredulously.

He found what he was looking for and held up the foil packet triumphantly. "Condom."

"Oh." She smiled, and turned over to reach for the drawer of her bedside stand. She pulled out a box, and tossed it to him. "Taken care of."

He sat down on the bed with it, reading the label. "Jumbo size."

"That refers to the _number_, you know." She scooted up beside him.

He looked at her and grinned. "You sure about that?"

She reached for the lamp by her bed to extinguish the light. "Either way, I think we're good."

* * *

She curled on her side and Nightwing molded himself around her. His arms went around her torso and pulled her closer still, pressing a kiss against her ear. She covered his hands with her own and gave a contented purr, snuggling back against him.

"I was wondering, earlier, if you had changed your mind." She confessed, and placed the bottom of her bare feet against the front of his calves, liking the rough feel of the hair on his legs.

"No chance." He kissed her shoulder.

She smiled. "I'm glad." She enjoyed his lips on her skin. "Is this – weird? What we're doing?"

"Not really. I understand it's been _very_ popular for millions of years."

She gave a small laugh. "I mean – you and me."

"Why? Because I'm wearing a mask?"

"Yeah. Do you –" she turned around in his arms to look at his face, acknowledging, of course, that she would not be able to see his eyes as he answered, "um, do this often?"

He shook his head, his mouth serious. "Sleep with girls I've met as Nightwing?" At her nod, he continued. "No. Never. You're the only one. This is kind of a – unique situation." It was a bit of a lie, he knew, even as he said it. He hadn't met her as Nightwing, but as Dick Grayson – although, of course, she didn't know that.

She smiled. "Good."

"Were you worried?" He asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know if _worried _is the right word. It's just that – well, to be honest, you're kind of a _dish_. I'm sure you've had your share of grateful women throwing themselves at you."

He laughed deep in his throat. "Is that what you are? Grateful?"

She smiled in return, and turned over again. "I'm _definitely _grateful for the past half hour."

"Hmm. That good, huh?"

"At the risk of adding to your already healthy self-confidence, I'll admit that it was." She smiled.

"What?" His arms tightened, and he pulled her against him.

"I mean that a man who wears spandex and _nothing else _must have an inkling of how good he looks in it."

"There's Kevlar in it, too, you know."

"Well, in that case, I guess I should say that you wear armor well." She teased, and put her head back to look at him.

"And you wear nothing well."

"What?" Her eyes widened.

He realized that his words sounded insulting, and blushed. "I – I mean that you look good naked."

She reached behind her and touched his hair with tenderness. "Oh, you're a _smooth_ talker, Nightmare."

His pulse quickened for a moment, then he leaned forward and kissed her jawline. "You make me tongue-tied." _Oh, shit_. He remembered saying that to her as Dick, and he prayed that she would not notice. He rushed to cover the moment. "Of course, there _are_ other things that I can do with my tongue."

A thought nagged at the back of her mind, but she shoved it away, and shimmied her rear against him, smiling as she felt him stirring. "Show me."

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**That Morning**

"You just couldn't stay away from her, could you?"

Dick stood in the doorway of his bathroom, clad only in underwear, and looked at his brother. He had just showered, and, as he dried his hair with a towel, he shrugged. "Was I supposed to?"

"Dude, it's your life. If it were me, I know I'd take every chance to screw her."

"And you haven't even seen her." He threw his towel at Jason, who caught it easily.

"Well, let's fix that. As I recall, you invited me for breakfast."

Dick walked towards his bedroom. "I remember it differently."

Jason shrugged. "I think you're having short-term memory loss. You know, from banging your girlfriend's brains out."

"Classy." Dick pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt.

"They have corned beef hash at this diner?"

"Yeah." Dick slid his clothes on and grabbed his boots.

"Good."

"That shit will clog your arteries and kill you."

"Funny. I'm not really worried about that."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Morning**

Devon stood at the cash register, making change, when she heard the bell on the front door jingle.

"Table or –" she began, but stopped, and her face whitened.

Dick Grayson and another young man she didn't recognize stood in front of her, and her pulse began racing. _Oh, no_, she thought. _Not today!_

He smiled at her hesitantly, and, clearing her throat, she smiled back, even though it was suddenly dry. "H – hey, Dick. How – how are you?"

He tried to ignore the fact that he knew what she looked like naked. "Uh, hi, uh, Devon. I'm – I'm good. You?" He was suddenly unable to string intelligible words together.

She bobbed her head rapidly. "Good, good – yeah, uh, good. Thanks for asking. Table or booth?"

"Table or booth would be fine."

She blinked at him, and led them to a booth. _Stupid, stupid_! _What the hell were you doing_? _You sounded like an __**idiot**_! _He doesn't __**know **__anything! Besides, you don't __**owe **__him anything. It's not like you were __**dating **__or anything! And, anyway, that thing with Nightwing is __**just **__sex. Wait! Why are you thinking about this now_? _Stop_!

Dick followed her, enjoying, as he always did, watching her rear move under her uniform, and thinking how well her butt would fit into his hands. _Shit! Stop thinking about sex_!

"Real smooth, big bro." Jason whispered in his ear.

Dick sighed. This was not going to be as easy as he thought.

She handed them menus as they sat, and waited expectantly.

"Oh, Devon." Dick realized that she had not met Jason. "Yeah. Uh, this is my brother."

She shook her head mentally, and smiled at Jason. "One of your brothers! Nice to meet you." She extended her hand, and Dick's brother took it in a warm, strong grip. "Roomie or Ivy Leaguer?"

"Roomie." Dick smiled.

"Jason," his brother supplied.

"Devon," she pulled her hand away.

"You know," Jason's eyes slid to Dick, "Dick has told me _a lot_ about you."

"O – oh?" Her own eyes went to Dick, who was turning red. "He told me a lot about you, too."

Jason's brows arched. "_Really_? I'll admit I'm surprised. I've always been the black sheep of the family. They keep me hidden – the _dirty_ little secret."

Dick's hands clenched.

"I'll – let you guys have a minute with the menu."

Jason smiled winningly at her, and Dick waited until Devon was well away before turning to his brother.

"What the _hell _was that about?"

Jason ignored him, and began to study the menu. "You do _not _disappoint, Dickie. She is _hot_. Very hot." He looked at his brother. "So is she into _any _superhero? Because I don't really have the _hero _bit down, but there are parts of me that are _super."_

Dick's face became mottled. "Are you _trying _to provoke me into beating you into the ground?"

"As if you could." At Dick's growing anger, Jason laughed. "You are _too _easy. I was just yanking your chain."

Dick was somewhat mollified. "You're a pain in the ass."

"But I'm a lot of fun."

"Your definition of fun has always been _off_, Jase."

"Different strokes." He leaned in. "Hey, what did you tell this girl? She knows that I'm your brother."

"Yeah, well," Dick began defensively, "_should_ I lie? You _are _my brother. So's Tim. So's Damian."

"Does she know about your _father_?"

"If you're asking whether she knows that Bruce Wayne is my father, then, no, she doesn't."

"Well, at least you know she's not after you for your money."

Dick was peeved. "Why do people keep saying _that_? She's not _after _me at all. Obviously."

Jason grinned. "Who else said that?"

"Bruce." He admitted, pouting.

"Ha! Leave it up to _him_ to find a motive for her interest in you."

"But she's _not _interested!" He hissed. "_That's _why I'm here."

Jason shook his head and looked at his menu. "Just give it up, Dickie. You've already got the best of both worlds. You get to screw her, but you don't have to do all the boring _boyfriend_ stuff, like _talking_, and pretending to care about her opinions, and buying her presents."

Dick gave Jason a dry look. "And _there's_ the reason you remain single."

* * *

Devon walked to the counter and picked up a coffee pot to refill the cups for the patrons there, although her mind was on Dick. She wondered why he was here; she had made it clear on Saturday that it was over – before it had even started, unfortunately.

And, now, of course, she was with Nightwing – and there was no room for Dick.

She watched the brothers talking, and, although she couldn't hear their words, she could tell that Dick seemed to be upset, which Devon _definitely _understood. Jason seemed a little like a loose cannon.

Still, what he had said about Dick telling him about her – troubled her. She had never wanted to hurt Dick, and it seems that he might have been very interested in her, and that she might have, indeed, hurt him.

She took a deep breath and walked back to their table with glasses of water and coffee cups.

"You boys want coffee?"

"God, yes." Jason smiled up at her, and she noticed how handsome he was, and, how, despite the fact that she knew that they were not related by blood, he resembled Dick. They had the same black hair, the same startling blue eyes, and the same mischievous smile.

She poured them both a cup, and took their orders. Dick was very conservative, ordering an egg-white omelet with whole wheat toast.

"Wow, Dick. That's a major change from your usual orders." She smiled. "No pancakes? No slabs of ham?"

Jason laughed, and Dick blushed. "He's trying to set a good example, I'm sure, for his wayward brother." Jason winked at her.

"_Someone's_ got to set a good example for you." Dick handed his menu to Devon.

Jason seemed unperturbed. "Dick's trying to teach me how to live. Next thing you know, he'll be giving me advice on women." He turned to Devon. "I'll have corned beef hash, a three egg omelet, and a blueberry muffin. But bring me margarine instead of butter for the muffin." He turned to Dick. "Satisfied?"

"I guess I'll have to be." He turned to Devon and smiled. "Thanks, Devon."

_God, he gorgeous when he smiles_! _Stop it, Devon_! She admonished herself. "I'll – I'll go put your order in." _And keep a safe distance._

* * *

After she left, Jason shook his head. "I _cannot _believe that she hasn't figured it out."

Dick shrugged. "People see what they want to see."

"Has she ever seen you naked?"

Dick gave him an odd look. "I've had sex with her, Jason. Of course she's seen me naked."

"Idiot. Has she ever seen _Dick _naked?"

"Oh. No. We – _Dick_ and she – never got – that far."

"That's good. No chance of her comparing – things."

Dick sighed. "You would think of that."

"Someone has to." Jason smiled, and wagged his brows.

* * *

Devon brought them the check just as Jason was finishing. He had eaten every speck of food on his plate, and had even finished Dick's uneaten toast. The younger man's appetite had always been legendary in the Wayne household, and it seemed as if it had not changed.

"Everything good?" Devon asked as she cleared the plates away. She reached close to Dick, and he was overwhelmed by the desire to drag his fingers over her skin, as he had the night before. He knew how soft she was, and how she reacted when he touched the pulse in her wrist. He knew that she loved it when he nipped at the skin on her neck, and knew that she was ticklish right below her breasts. He was learning a lot about her, and he wished that he could learn it all as Dick instead of Nightwing.

Actually, right now, he wished that he could follow her to the back room of the diner and hitch up her skirt and take her against the wall.

But that wasn't going to happen.

He let her back away with the dishes, and watched as she walked across the diner. Jason, too, watched her progress. "You know what she's hiding under that uniform."

Dick smiled, disrobing her in his mind. "Yeah."

"I'd _definitely _tap that."

Dick gave him a murderous look.

Jason looked surprised. "What? It's a compliment – to you!"

Dick continued to glare as he took out his wallet and put $30 on the table.

"Bro, that's too much." Jason pointed out.

"I'm a big tipper."

"You know that's kind of creepy, right?"

"Me giving a generous tip is _creepy_?"

"Uh, yeah. It's almost like you're trying to buy her affection."

"If I was trying to buy her affection, I'd give her more than a crappy $10 tip."

"It may be crappy to you, but, to us poor people, it's like a day's worth of food."

"Oh."

Jason shook his head. "This scenario is not going to work out the way you want it to, Dickie. Just take what you can get from her and call it good."

Dick groaned. "Jase, you just don't understand."

Jason's jaw dropped. "Shit. You're in love with her."

"Shhhhhh." Dick looked around.

Jason rolled his eyes. "There are empty booths on both sides of us. Unless there's a microphone in the salt shaker, I think we're safe." He pointed at Dick. "But I think it's funny that _that's _what you care about her hearing. That you're in love with her."

"Yeah, well, I don't want _anyone _to hear _any _of it."

"So, you gonna tell her?" Jason grinned and leaned his elbows on the table.

"No. No, I am _not _going to tell her. Let's go."

Jason shrugged. "It was a bad idea anyway."

* * *

Devon gave Dick and his brother a quick wave, and, as they were leaving, went to collect the check and the money that they had left on the table. Even though the bill was less than seventeen dollars, Dick had left thirty dollars, which meant that the tip was almost as much as the bill itself.

She sighed. Even though he had said that he was a big tipper, and that the tip had nothing to do with the way he felt about her, she felt that such a sum was – inappropriate, and she was a bit uncomfortable with it.

She ran after him recklessly, and caught up with him outside.

He turned when he heard his name, and a pleased smile came over his face.

Now that she was standing there with him, face to face, she felt embarrassed. "Uh, can I talk to you for a second?" Her eyes slid to Jason. "In private?"

Jason nodded. "Sure thing. Dick, give me the keys. I'll wait in the car."

Dick handed them over, and turned back to Devon. "What's up?"

"I, uh," she looked down at the money crumpled in her hand, and thrust the ten dollar bill back at him. "You left too much."

He put his hands in his pockets. "No. I want you to have it. It was –"

"Good service, I know." She interrupted him. "But I feel uncomfortable taking it. So, please –" She tried to hand it to him again, and he reluctantly took it from her.

"Okay." He nodded, his face sad, and turned to go.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm, which she removed immediately. "Uh, Dick, uh, I don't think you should – come to the diner so much." At the shock on his face, she rushed on. "I – I'm sorry. It's just that, I feel like you might still think that we can be – more than we _are_, and I just – have to tell you that – that we _won't_. You – you need to – move on. I'm sorry."

With that, she turned and rushed back into the diner, leaving him looking after her, dumbfounded.

* * *

Dick climbed into the car and looked at Jason for a long moment before extending his hand for the keys.

"What happened?" His brother asked.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Jason laughed for an entire two blocks.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Dick needs some aloe for his burn. ; )

Also, for the purposes of this fic, I am using the current comic description of Jason – black hair and blue eyes. To be honest, I never liked him as a redhead (although the artist who drew him in the Batman and Robin #23 (2011) made him look AWFULLY good). There are WAY too many redheads in DC – Wally West, Barbara Gordon, Roy Harper, Bart Allen, Koriand'r – just to name a few. I also like the idea that Bruce has a "type" that he chooses as Robin – it's a little pathological.

PLEASE REVIEW! Thanks! : )


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: **As a request from a FAITHFUL reader, I am posting a BONUS President's Day chapter! Happy birthday, George (or Abe - I always forget which president it was)! Enjoy! : )

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Morning**

After a car ride punctuated mostly by silence on Dick's part and laughter on Jason's, Dick dropped Jason off at their apartment and drove to Wayne Enterprises. He had finished the report that Lucius had assigned him the week prior, but he had not been able to discuss his findings with the CEO.

And now, thanks to Devon, he was not in the mood. She wasn't interested in him for anything other than sex, and it was lowering.

_Really, Dick, how much of a problem is that_? _Most guys **want **no-strings-attached sex, and you're complaining about it!_

"Morning, Joan." Dick put aside his thoughts of Devon, and smiled at the secretary as he entered Lucius's office. "Red looks good on you."

The older woman gave him a coquettish smile. "It's my favorite color."

"It's very striking. Is Lucius in?"

She shook her head. "No. There was an – incident at one of the Wayne Foods plants outside Smallville."

"Nothing serious, I hope."

"I don't believe so."

"Hmm. I was supposed to brief him on that report I gave him last week."

"He's scheduled back in the office tomorrow afternoon, if that helps."

"Yes. It does. Thanks so much, Joan."

As he was walking to his office, his cellphone rang, and Bruce's contact came up on the screen. "You really have to stop calling me on this number." He just couldn't help ribbing his father.

"Are you at work?'

"Yeah. Everything okay?"

"Can you stop by the house after your last class?"

Dick stopped walking. "Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?" He asked again.

"Everything's fine. I have a favor to ask of you."

Dick's eyes bulged. Bruce was _asking _him for a favor? That was unheard of: Bruce Wayne ordered – he did not ask.

"Uh, sure. No problem. My last class is finished at –"

"Four."

Bruce knew that. Of course he did.

"I'll be there."

"By 4:30."

"Of course."

Dick shook his head. Just because Bruce could get anywhere in Gotham in under a half hour, he assumed that everyone else could, as well.

He sat down at his computer and stared at the screen as it booted, thinking again about Devon's words. She had told him to stay away, effectively shutting down any more attempts to convince her that he, _Dick_,was right for her.

So, it was sex or nothing.

He decided to choose sex.

He opened the e-mail program to find an e-mail from Lucius congratulating him on a well-written, thought-provoking report, and asking him to attend a meeting that morning on a possible contractual change with one of their raw materials vendors.

Dick sighed. The meeting was in an hour and a half, which meant that he had to spend the morning cramming.

_What fun_! He thought sarcastically. Still, he was lucky, and he knew that. He had been given, on the proverbial silver platter, the means to support himself in wealth for the rest of his life. Few people of his acquaintance could say that – definitely not Wally or Barbara or Roy. And, had he stayed in the circus, it would have been a hard-scrabble existence – fraught with danger, with paralysis and poverty one hand catch away.

He pulled up a search box on the company network, and started his research. It might not be swinging through the air, or taking down criminals, but it was infinitely safer, and not all that bad.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Afternoon**

He drove too fast to Wayne Manor, but arrived at 4:25, and, as he alighted from the car, there was a smile on his face.

He ran up the steps to the front door, and let himself in. The entrance hall, was predictably, empty, and he called out for Alfred.

He found the manservant, predictably, in the kitchen.

"Hey, Alfie. How's it hanging?"

Alfred stood at a counter, rolling dough around a piece of meat. "I suppose the correct response, Master Richard, is _well_, although, to be frank, I am not certain to what you are referring."

Dick laughed and sat down on one of the stools. "Just asking how it's going."

"Ah, in that case, well."

"Good." He peered closely at Alfred's task. "Is that beef Wellington?"

"It is indeed. Should you like to stay for dinner?"

"Oh, yeah! You know I love your Wellington, Alfred."

Alfred smiled. "Thank you, Master Richard. It should be ready by six."

"I'm staying. Hey, where's Bruce? He asked me to come by."

"He and Master Damian are belowstairs."

_Belowstairs _was Alfred's code for the Batcave.

"I'll catch you later, Alfie."

"Indeed, Sir."

Dick made his way to the study and to the grandfather clock that concealed the cave entrance, set 10:48 on the dial, and the secret door revealed itself.

He found Bruce in front of the Batcomputer with Damian beside him, both in civilian clothes.

"I'm here." He announced unnecessarily.

"It's 4:40." Bruce's voice was clipped.

"I stopped to see Alfred. Why?" His brows drew down. "What's going on?"

Bruce turned the chair to his oldest son, and handed him a small box.

"Lucius's man couldn't get anything on the bullet except the model of the gun from which it was fired."

"And that was?" Dick looked at the mangled bullet within.

"The L115A3."

"British sniper rifle." Dick had never encountered one before on a criminal, but he had handled one.

"Just like I said." Damian said triumphantly.

"Yes. Good work." Bruce gave his youngest son a brief nod of acknowledgement.

Damian gave Dick a look that said: _I am_ _superior_, although Dick ignored it.

"Where are these used?" Dick asked.

"Afghanistan."

Dick's brows rose. "They still have boots on the ground there?"

"Officially, no." Bruce turned back to his computer. "But covertly, yes. And there was a shipment of these guns – five of them – stolen, along with two thousand rounds of ammunition, three months ago. It was assumed that they ended up in the hands of insurgents, but..."

"Maybe not." Dick finished his statement. "Have there been any incidents of the guns being used in Afghanistan?"

"None reported."

Dick's jaw set as he mulled over these details. "So they might have been stolen by someone _other _than who the Brits suspect."

"Yes."

"And at least one of them ended up in Gotham."

"And, as we mentioned the other day, this is a gun worth more than $30,000 dollars."

Damian chimed in. "Probably more on the black market, Father."

"Yes. Maybe $50,000."

Dick gave a low whistle. "So we _are_ talking about some serious money here."

"This is not the work of a minnow, Dick."

"It's more like a whale."

"But who? That's the question." Bruce frowned.

"The authorities in Afghanistan have any leads on who pulled this off?"

"Not that I've been able to find."

"So, it's a dead end, then." Dick scratched his chin.

"Not quite. Searching for clues on the computer can only go so far. A man on the scene will probably have a lot more luck."

Dick looked at Bruce levelly. "You're going to Afghanistan."

"Wheels up at 7:30."

Dick sighed. Even the Batman would have trouble staying safe in a place as unstable as Afghanistan. "I don't like it."

"And I don't like someone shooting at my sons."

"I can come, Father. I'm certain that I can be of assistance." Damian drew himself up to his full height.

A shadow of a smile crossed Bruce's face. "Yes, I know. But Bruce Wayne is going to have enough trouble justifying a trip to Afghanistan. Bruce Wayne and _son_ would raise far too many questions."

"But –" Damian began, but Bruce held up a hand for silence.

"You'll stay here. That's final."

"You treat me like a child!" It was a complaint that Damian used often. "I've been in war zones before. I am more than qualified!"

"Nevertheless, you're staying here."

"My mother took me to Afghanistan frequently when she went there on business!" He continued to protest.

"And hence the reason you live with _me_." Bruce's voice brooked no dissension.

Damian stared at his father, his face mottled and his small fists clenched at his sides. He opened his mouth to speak, but one look from his father caused him to close it, and run off petulantly.

Bruce sighed as he heard his youngest son's feet pounding away. "You were never like that." It was a complaint that Bruce used often.

"Damian's upbringing was _vastly _different from mine."

"I know. I don't think that I can trust him _not _to follow me."

"I don't know how you'd stop him if he's determined to go."

"A babysitter should do the trick."

"A babysitter? Who? Babs? Dinah?" Dick's mind automatically went to the women of his acquaintance. "Surely _not_ Selina?"

"Your sexism is showing, Dick. I meant you."

"Oh." Dick blinked. "Oh. Me. Of course."

"Can he stay with you at your place until I get back?"

_My place_? Dick thought. _With Jason there_? "No!" He said, too quickly, and Bruce looked at him questioningly. "I mean, I can just – stay here. It would probably be best for Damian, too. That way he also has Alfred's eyes on him."

Bruce nodded. "Fine. Go back to your place and get your things. You can take Damian with you."

"No, no. It's okay. I have more than enough stuff here for tonight. I can go by my place tomorrow."

Bruce shrugged. "Suit yourself." He turned back to the computer. "Thank you, Dick."

Dick's eyes widened. Bruce rarely said thank you – it was really not in him to admit gratitude to others, or to admit that he needed help.

"Sure thing." He pulled up a stool and watched as his father rapidly typed on the keyboard. He had some nagging questions about this sniper case, and the case of the recent jewel thefts.

"Is there something else, Dick?"

"Yeah. Yeah, there is. Actually, it has to do with the sniper, and you going to Afghanistan."

"Go on."

"We've already established that whomever is behind this has a lot of money."

"Yes."

"And the Afghanistan connection."

"Yes."

"Bruce, Damian said it himself. Afghanistan is in Talia's pocket. Are you sure that you'll be safe going there?"

"Talia would never kill me. And she would _definitely_ never allow someone to take a shot at Damian."

"That may have been an accident."

Bruce turned to face Dick. "If Talia wanted me dead, I'd be dead."

"She may not want you dead, but she _does _want Damian back. You know that."

"She will not get him by killing me."

"She'll never get him as long as I'm breathing. But she doesn't know that."

"She's not a stupid woman, Dick. On the contrary, she has one of the most brilliant minds that I have ever known."

"But she's still his mother, and, well, sometimes, mothers don't think rationally when it comes to their children."

"I'll be fine. And Damian will be fine as long as he stays in Gotham. That's why it's so important that _you _stay with him. He admires you, Dick. More than anyone else."

Dick laughed. "Damian does _not _admire me. He pities my 'peasant origins' and my 'pedestrian tendencies,' but he doesn't admire me!"

Bruce shook his head. "Dick, after me, there is no one on Earth that Damian respects and admires more. _You _were the original Robin. You're the one the others strive to emulate. You're the gold standard."

Dick was inordinately pleased. "I am?"

"That's the reason I came to you about putting away Batman. The others _will _follow your lead."

Dick shook his head. "I think you're wrong."

"I'm rarely wrong."

Dick took a deep breath. That was true. "So, if it's not Talia, who is it?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be going to Afghanistan."

"It has to be someone we know. Someone who hates us."

"You assume it's personal?"

"It may not be, of course. It might just be business."

"The list of people who would like to see the Earth rid of us is far too long to go through without further clues."

"I know. I know. It's just that – the first time we were shot at, it was Tim and me, and either a crime of opportunity or someone following us."

"Probably the latter."

"Okay. And the second time was that heist last week – which wasn't really a heist, but a trap."

"Yes."

"Did we get any information off the car, by the way?"

"Nothing left of it."

"Okay. Fine. But what about what _brought _us there? You said that you had had a tip."

"Yes."

"An anonymous tip?"

"Yes."

Dick looked at Bruce musingly. "Was there any chance that the tip came from Selina?"

Bruce's face reddened. "I've told you already that she had nothing to do with it."

"Bruce, you can't deny it – this job – the jewelry store – has her paw prints all _over _it!"

"But it wasn't a _job_, was it? It was a trap – you just said so yourself."

"But what if Selina _isn't_ trying to kill us, but – scare us?"

"You think Selina is trying to _scare _us? To what end?"

"Have you talked to her – at all – about quitting the life?"

Bruce was silent, and Dick knew what the answer was. "What if – just, _what if_, she's trying to _help_ convince you that you should retire? You know that she loves you, and _she _knows that there's no future for the two of you as long as _you're _Batman and _she's_ Catwoman."

"So you think that this is all an elaborate hoax so that I'll _propose_?"

"Stranger things have happened."

Bruce was silent for a long moment, then shook his head. "I don't accept that. The key to this is in Afghanistan – I'm sure of it."

"Are you so certain that you'll risk your life?"

A look of fond exasperation came into Bruce's eyes. "You're sounding like Alfred."

"I just want you to live to see your retirement."

* * *

After they had waved Bruce off to the airport in the Wayne limousine driven by Alfred, Damian turned to Dick. "Are we patrolling Gotham or Blüdhaven tonight?"

"Did I say that we were patrolling?" He turned and climbed the steps to the front door.

Damian followed him. "Father said that I couldn't go to Afghanistan. He didn't say I had to stay _home_."

"True."

"Besides, if you don't go with me, you know I'll go without you."

Dick turned to his younger brother with a grin. "Well, in that case, I say we swing."

Less than an hour later, the two of them were doing exactly that through the downtown streets of Gotham. Dick landed on the top of the Gotham Superior Courthouse, followed by Damian.

It was drizzling, and the water vapor gave all the streetlights a halo, making the darkness appear less threatening.

"We have had no trouble with Two Face recently, Nightwing," Damian mused as he sat down on the roof of the building.

"Consider yourself lucky. I can't stand the guy. He's always been nothing but trouble. I hope he stays put in Arkham this time."

"Father believes that he can be rehabilitated."

"Batman thinks everyone can be rehabilitated." He sat next to his brother.

"But you don't think that?"

Dick looked out over the city that he had grown up in – that he knew more intimately than most people who had lived there for seventy years. "I'm a Bat, Robin, just like you. I have to believe it."

"We may be Bats, but we are entitled to our own beliefs. Even if we cannot act on them."

Dick smiled at his brother. "When did you become so wise?"

"Tt. I was born wise."

"And humble." Dick grinned at Damian, and elbowed him gently in the shoulder. "Hey, you want to climb Wayne Tower? I haven't done that in _years_."

"It seems needlessly dangerous."

"It is."

"Yes. Let's go."

Wayne Tower had been the tallest building in Gotham until the eventual construction of the Wayne Enterprises Building, which housed the headquarters of Bruce's company, and to which Dick now reported for work three days a week.

However, the tower, with its exposed beans, was much more fun to scale, as Dick had discovered in his youth. He had spent many nights climbing portions of it, mainly when Bruce had left him behind to do work on his own. He did not make his way to the top, however, until he was fifteen, which was also when Bruce discovered his ward's hobby, thanks to a camera mounted on the pinnacle of the tower.

After a brief shouting match, the two of them had begun climbing the tower together, as both training and team building, and Dick counted those memories among his most cherished.

Now it was time to continue the tradition with Damian. A little bonding with him, after all, would not go amiss.

As they landed on the street in front of the building, Dick looked at Damian, who stood staring gleefully at the structure before them. "We won't go to the top tonight."

Damian's mouth pulled down. "Why not?"

"Because this is our first time climbing it together. Got to walk before you can run, little bro."

"I am more conversant with mountain climbing than you will _ever _be, Nightwing. I surmounted Mont Blanc was I was seven, Elbrus when I was eight, and Puncak Jaya the day that I turned nine."

"I am assuming that those are tall mountains?"

"Tt. Philistine." He was clearly disgusted.

Dick smiled. "That's all very well and good, little bat, but this is _urban _climbing, and requires a different skill set." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Agility. Ingenuity. Endurance. And a healthy does of hubris – which you have in excess, by the way."

"Very funny."

"I thought so. Now, do you have your grapnel gun?"

"I was just using it." His tone made it apparent that he found the question idiotic.

"Of course. Is it ready?"

"It's always ready."

"Fine, then. Aim for the seventh floor."

"This line can reach to the _thirteenth _floor."

"That's bad luck. We'll go from seventh to fifteenth to twenty-fourth."

"If I had wanted to climb with an old woman, Nightwing, I would have gone to the assisted living facility." Without looking, he shot into the air with the grapple gun, which pulled him off his feet seconds later.

Dick sighed and followed him – to the thirteenth floor. "I said _seventh_!" He hissed to Robin a they hung from the side of the building.

"Why should we waste our time going seven or eight floors at a time?"

"Because we are trying to be _cautious_! You aren't experienced _at all_ with urban climbing, and I haven't done this climb in _years_."

"You may be out of practice, but I assure you that I am quite cognizant of my limitations. Thirteen floors." He shot his second grapple gun out, and he whooshed away, releasing the claw of his first line from the building as he went.

"I am going to _kill_ that child." Nightwing shot his own line out, and joined Damian on the twenty-fifth floor. "Don't _ever _do that again! When I say _wait_, you wait!"

Damian turned an ugly look on his brother. "_You_ are not my father."

"But he left me in charge of you, so, when I tell you to _do _something, you _do _it."

Damian's eyes narrowed, and he lifted his arm to shoot out his first line again.

"Robin! No, wait! The line hasn't had enough time to reset!" Dick reached out, but he was speaking to empty air, since Damian had already launched himself off the building, depending upon his line to catch him.

As he jumped, Damian released the claw of his second line, so that he was, in essence, free falling, since his first line, which he had aimed towards the thirty-seventh floor, had failed.

Dick watched in horror as his little brother began falling, and, with a speed born of both instinct and experience, he hurled himself after Damian. Instinct also caused him to shoot his remaining line at the boy, and, with relief, he saw that his aim was true and that the line wrapped itself around the young boy's waist. A quick flick of his wrist caused Damian's line to arc through the sky, but, with both his hands occupied with lines, he found himself hurtling helplessly through the air towards the ground.

_Please, God, let me hold onto Dami_, was his only thought.

Robin, who had begun his own upward arc thanks to his brother's quick thinking, engaged his remaining line, which launched successfully and embedded itself into the floor of observation deck on the thirtieth floor. His body shot towards that floor, yanking Dick after him.

He landed rather easily, and Dick landed seconds later, tucking and rolling when he hit the floor.

Still attached to Dick by his brother's line, though, Damian was dragged along the observation deck, and ended in a heap against the wall.

Dick jumped to his feet, relatively unhurt, and raced over to Robin.

"Damian!" He grabbed the boy's shoulder and turned him over. He was about to rip the mask from the younger man's face to see if he was conscious, but Damian pushed him away. "Don't use my real name, you buffoon."

Dick staggered back and sat hard, his head in his hands, the realization that Damian had almost died pummeling his brain.

Damian sat up and began unwinding the line from around his waist. "This was needlessly dangerous, Nightwing. I don't know why you suggested it."

His hands stilled as he watched Dick run to the railing and vomit over the edge.

"N – Nightwing, did you just _throw up _on the sidewalk?"

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I got the idea for this incident from one a scene in _Under the Red Hood_, in which Nightwing saves Batman from falling by swinging in and catching him on a jumpline. _Under the Red _Hood, in case you have never seen it, is the VERY excellent 2010 animated film that recounts Jason Todd's return to Gotham after his resurrection. If you haven't seen it, DO SO NOW. Run, don't walk, to rent it, stream it, buy it, etc. It was directed by Brandon Vietti, one of the men responsible for bringing _Young Justice_ to us, and it shares a LOT stylistically with the show. Further, it features Bruce Greenwood as the voice of Batman; he also voices Batman in the show. AND, the climatic scene in the movie also happens to take place in an apartment VERY MUCH like Red Arrow's in the last episode of season one, "Auld Acquaintance." In my opinion, the movie could actually be canonically linked to YJ.

Okay, enough of my love of _Under the Red Hood _and back to my fic. I'll admit that I fudged the map of Gotham City a little bit by including a Wayne Enterprises Building, which does not exist, to my knowledge, in either _Young Justice_ or the comics. In the comics, Wayne Enterprises is housed in the Wayne Tower, the top of which resembles the Eiffel Tower in construction, with exposed beams, etc. However, in the _Arkham City _video game, Wayne Enterprises has a building that can be seen from the Wonder Tower (which may be based on Wayne Tower), and I thought that was cool. So I hijacked it for the purposes of this story.

I also gave what I hope was a plausible explanation for the functionality of the Batfamily's jumplines. They seem to be limitless, but I wanted to put in some sort of limitation to them, which is why I had Damian's line fail because of his impatience and arrogance.

I have also assumed, since this is set in the near future, that British forces are no longer in Afghanistan, and so any involvement in that country would have to be covert. Let's just hope that, five years in the future, no foreign forces are in Afghanistan!

PLEASE REVIEW as a thank you for a bonus chapter! : )


	23. Chapter 23

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

Devon paced back and forth across her room, stopping to check the time frequently. 12:30. 12:35. 12:40. 12:45.

_Crap_! She was watching the clock, like some love-starved teenager.

She resumed pacing. Where was he? Was he coming?

She stopped pacing. What if he wasn't coming?

What if he had changed his mind about – being with her?

What if he had just used her – for sex?

_Oh, right_. _As if **you **haven't been doing that._

She started pacing again. What if he wasn't coming – because he was hurt?

He had a dangerous job, after all. What if, even now, he was lying on the street somewhere, broken and bleeding?

What if someone had shot at him?

_Oh, you mean someone besides **you**_? She asked herself.

Shit. It was hard being a superhero's girlfriend.

_Wait a second. You are **not **his girlfriend. You are a girl he sleeps with. That's it. Nothing else. And he's **not **lying dead somewhere. He's just off somewhere beating someone's ass. He does that._

How did she know he did that? Two months ago, she had never heard of him. But he had been Robin, and he had been trained by Batman, so presumably he was well qualified to take care of himself. And kick people's asses.

She sighed. It was after one in the morning now, and she was tired. She had less than four hours left before she had to get up for work, and it seemed like he was not coming.

Well, that was okay. She didn't need him every night.

But, just in case, she was leaving the window open.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

Dick opened his eyes in his old bed in his old bedroom in the Wayne Manor, and, for a moment, he thought that he was thirteen again, and that the past eight years had been a dream.

He rubbed his eyes and sat up. It wasn't a dream. Bruce was in Afghanistan, Jason was in _his_ apartment, and he had almost gotten Damian killed last night.

But Damian _hadn't _been killed. He had suffered a few scrapes and bruises, but, other than that, he was whole and healthy.

No thanks to Dick. It had been a bad idea to take Damian to Wayne Tower. He was too cocky and self-assured and _inexperienced_ to tackle something like Wayne Tower, and Dick should have known that. Despite Damian's posturing, he was still just ten years old. Dick would never have even _attempted_ the Tower at that age, and to have encouraged Damian in it was folly.

But Dick had learned from his mistake – it would be _several _years before he took Damian to climb Wayne Tower again.

There was a knock on his door.

"Come in."

Alfred entered with breakfast on a tray, and with a smile. "I took the liberty of bringing you a little something to eat, Master Dick." He settled the tray on Dick's lap.

Dick smiled gratefully at the man who had been, functionally, a grandfather to him. "Thanks, Alfred."

"Your favorites, I believe. Hash browns with Hollandaise sauce, two eggs over easy, extra crispy bacon, and crumpets."

Dick grinned. "You mean English muffins."

"Indeed, Sir."

"Alfred, you are a prince among men." He dug into the meal with gusto. "Is that fresh-squeezed orange juice?"

"With organic oranges from Florida."

"Nectar of the gods."

Alfred smiled, and clasped his hands in front of him, enjoying the sight of Dick eating.

Dick looked up at the butler sheepishly. "Damian up?"

"Oh, yes, Sir, quite. He's been up for nearly two hours. Training."

"Did he tell you what happened last night?"

"He told me that there was a bit of an _incident_ at Wayne Tower."

"He almost fell. And it was my fault."

Alfred shook his head and walked over to the window to pull open the drapes. "That is not how Master Damian tells it, Sir."

Dick's brows raised as he bit into a rasher of bacon. "No?" He had expected Damian to throw him under the bus and make him look incompetent.

"No. Master Damian says that he attempted to launch a jumpline before it had fully recoiled into the cylinder, thereby rendering it useless to hold his weight."

Dick nodded. "He did. But it wasn't his fault. _I _should never have taken him there. It was – irresponsible."

"He is unharmed, though, Master Richard, and he has learned a lesson in humility and patience."

Dick looked speculative. "So have I. I've also learned that I'm not as good a mentor as I could be. As I _should_ be."

"Masters Jason and Timothy would disagree with you."

Dick gave a short laugh. "No, Jason would _not _disagree with me."

"Do you think Master Jason resents you, Sir? Because I am certain that he does not."

"I don't know if he resents me, Alfred, but I sure as hell didn't make his tenure as Robin very easy on him."

"We all learn from our mistakes, Sir."

Dick nodded. "Well, if we don't, we're condemned to make them over and over again."

Alfred nodded. "I'll allow you to finish and get dressed, Sir, so that you might start the day."

"Thank you, Alfred."

After the manservant left, Dick reached for his phone. He had gone to bed last night immediately after getting back to the Manor, his nerves shot, and he had neglected to inform Jason that he wouldn't be home last night.

_Sorry I didn't make it home_.

A text came back within seconds. _**She's got you by the short hairs.**_

Dick chuckled. Jason thought that he had spent the night with Devon. _I wish. I was at the manor with Damian because Bruce is out of town._

_**That sounds like a LOT less fun.**_

_Looks like you've got the place to yourself for a couple of days._

_**I'll try not to have too many big parties.**_

_I appreciate that. Have a good day._

_**You, too. Try not to strangle the pygmy.**_

Dick shook his head, a smile on his face, and got up, rummaging through the drawers in a bureau for clothes. He kept several changes of clothing at the manor for times like this, and he put on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt..

He did not have to go to Wayne Enterprises this morning, so he would probably spend that time training with Damian. That would have to function as teambuilding and bonding – at least for a while.

He thought about Devon as he dressed, and wondered how she had spent the last night, Had she left her window open – had she waited for him?

She would most likely spend the next couple of nights, at least, alone, since he did not know how he would be able to leave Damian to visit her.

He hoped she wouldn't be mad – but why would she be? He hadn't told her _when _he would come see her again. Their relationship – if it could be called that – was very fluid and informal – with no expectations or promises. That was what she wanted, after all. No ties.

That's not what he wanted, though. He wanted the sex _and_ the companionship. He wanted it _all_.

He just didn't know how to get it.

He put it out of his mind, and went to find Damian.

The youngest Wayne was in the gym, working on forms with a bo staff.

Dick leaned against the door jamb and watched him for a few minutes, admiring his techniques. He really was _very _skilled. "Hey, Dami, looking good."

Damian dropped his arms and turned to look at his brother. "That was very non-specific praise. What portion of the form was _looking good_? And do not call me that."

Dick smiled and pushed off the frame. "Should I call you _baby bird_?"

"_I _should call _you _an ambulance. You're going to need it." He threw a bo staff to Dick, who caught it easily.

"That's a non-specific threat."

"Allow me to remedy that. I am going to _pummel_ you."

"Think you can take me down?" Dick's smile was now a grin. _This _was familiar territory – sparring with his baby brother.

"Blindfolded and with one hand."

He swung at Dick, who evaded easily. "Try again, sprout."

"I shall. _I_ am just warming up." He lunged towards his brother, who sidestepped him, although Damian's staff struck the back of Dick's calves, causing him to stagger. "Ha! Point for me!"

"Are we keeping track?" Dick asked as he circled Damian.

"Always."

"In that case..." Dick trailed off as he suddenly changed direction, and gave Damian three quick jabs to the torso, which sent him reeling backwards. Dick smiled. "Should we count that as _three _points or one?"

"Count it as your _last_, Grayson!" Damian snarled, and surged forward.

They continued, back and forth, for several minutes, until Dick called for a break.

"What?" Damian was outraged. "There are no _time outs_! Killer Croc would not give you a time out! Scarecrow would not give you a time out!"

"But hopefully my _brother_ would." He tossed the staff to Damian, who slapped it to the floor.

"You forfeit then, Grayson?"

Dick nodded and grabbed a bottle of water. "I concede humbly." He offered a bottle to Damian, who accepted it.

"Well, then, I suppose we know who is the superior fighter." Damian sniffed as he twisted the cap.

Dick held the bottle up in a salutation, and sat on a bench.

Damian joined him, and they sat in companionable silence, until Dick turned to him.

"I'm really sorry for what happened last night, Dami. I mean it."

Damian ignored the diminutive of his name, and shook his head. "It was my fault, Grayson, and I fully accept that. I told Pennyworth as much."

"Thank you. That was a very – mature – thing to do."

He nodded. "It was the right thing to do. Father is constantly telling me to do the right thing, you know."

Dick grinned sympathetically. "I know."

Silence fell again, and this time Damian broke it. "Please don't tell Father about – last night."

Dick frowned. "I – I don't know if that's the right thing to do, squirt."

"I know. I would like to be the one to tell him, though. When he gets back."

Dick nodded seriously, and put his arm around his brother's shoulder. "Okay."

Damian gave a brief nod.

Dick stared at his brother's profile for a long moment – the pugnacious nose and the implacably set chin, and a feeling of tenderness washed over him. "I love you, Damian. You know that, right?"

Damian looked at him, his face betraying no emotion. "I know. Now get your hands off me."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Afternoon**

Devon was running behind schedule. The lunch service was busier than usual, so it took longer than normal to prepare the bank deposit, and it was already nearly 2:30 by the time she left the diner. That would make her late for class, but there was nothing that she could do about it.

Still, the day could have been worse. Throughout both the breakfast and lunch services, she watched the door for Dick to walk in. She had been so _severe _with him the day before, asking him to leave her alone. He had not deserved that, but she really did not know what else to do. She liked him – a lot, but, as she had told him _time _and again, she couldn't get involved. And, now, she wasn't really _available_. She was _involved_ with Nightwing. And she _definitely _couldn't be _involved_ with both of them! There were _many _reasons why she couldn't. Firstly, it was sleazy to sleep with two guys at once – especially if they did not know of the other. Secondly, it was _definitely _not fair to do that to Dick – he wanted a _future_, she thought, with her, and they could not build a future together if she was sleeping with someone else. Thirdly, she didn't have _time _now. Her days were very busy, and, now, her nights were rather busy, as well, between Nightwing and her responsibilities to Larry. Besides, the reasons why she had rejected Dick in the first place had not gone away.

But starting something with Nightwing might have been a _huge _miscalculation. She had been assigned to shoot at him – or at least at his closest colleagues. She didn't think that he had any idea that she was involved, but there was a chance – a _huge _chance – that he someday would. And, _if _he found out, that would be the end of their relationship. It might also be the end of her life – or at least her freedom.

_Well, then, _she thought, _you just have to make sure that he doesn't find out._

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night **

Dick looked at Damian as the younger man put on his Robin uniform and inspected all the gadgets on his utility belt.

They were going out patrolling again, but this time, Dick decided to stick to the ground in the Batmobile, which Damian gleefully accepted, hoping, of course, to get a chance to drive the car.

As Dick put on his mask, he wondered how he could get away from his brother for a couple of hours to visit Devon. He _really _wanted to see her. He had gone _months _without so much as touching a woman, but, now that he had become _active _again, all he wanted was to be with her again. He wanted to sink himself into her, to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, to hear her breathy sigh when his lips touched a sensitive spot.

He was in a constant state of readiness for her, and he knew that, in his uniform, that would be quite evident, and he was surprised that Damian had either not noticed or not commented on it. He thought it must be the former, because Damian was not known to be discreet, and would have happily tormented Dick with snide comments.

The comm in Dick's ear went off, and he touched his ear to engage it. "Nightwing."

"Nightwing, it's Batgirl."

_Babs_! He had forgotten what Wally had told him – that she had wanted to see him.

"Bat – girl. Hi." _Lame_ _much, Dick_?

"Uh, yeah. Hi. I was – hoping that – _maybe_ – we could patrol together."

Dick looked at his brother, who was straightening his tunic. "Sure, but I've got Robin with me tonight."

"Oh." Barbara sounded disappointed. "Okay. Never mind, then. It – it can wait. No problem."

Even though he had been avoiding her, he didn't like her sounding so disconsolate. "Some other night, then. Soon."

"Yeah. Okay." She sounded better. "Be – safe."

"You, too, Batgirl."

Dick waited until she clicked off, then sighed. Barbara had been one of his best friends for so long that, when they had broken up several months before, he had been bereft – cut off from her not only romantically, but as a friend, too. They had only recently gotten rid of much of the awkwardness that had marked their encounters, and, now, with Devon in the picture, he felt that the awkwardness had crept back in. He had not meant for it to happen, but it had, and it was his fault. He felt somehow – disloyal to Barbara for moving on, even though he knew that it was natural. He couldn't mourn the end of their relationship forever, after all.

He turned to Damian and smiled. "Let's hit the road, baby bro."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night **

Nightwing saw his chance to ditch Robin at a little after eleven that night. They had broken up a gang fight near Crime Alley, but one of the thugs had gotten too close, and Damian had sustained a cut near his elbow from a broken bottle.

Dick had taken care of the dolt who had dared to lay hands on his brother, much to that brother's jealousy, and had removed three of the man's four front teeth. After leaving all of the miscreants in the custody of the Gotham City Police Department, they had returned to the Batcave for Alfred to stitch up the wound.

Dick, who sat on a stool close to the treatment table where Alfred was deftly sewing up Damian, peered at the wound. "You do good work."

A small smile came to Alfred's face. "Thank you, Master Richard."

"Has he had a tetanus shot recently, Alfred?"

Damian looked at his brother with disgust. "You _can _talk to me directly. I am quite familiar with my own medical history."

Dick laid a hand on his chest in a mocking apologetic stance. "I apologize, Damian. Of course. Have you had a tetanus shot in the recent past?"

Damian, who had removed his mask, glared at his brother. "Yes. Last year."

Dick looked to the butler for confirmation, and was relieved when Alfred gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Good." Dick squeezed Damian's good arm. "Dami, I leave you in Alfred's capable hands. I'm going back out."

Damian's head swiveled from supervising Alfred to Dick. "What?! Wait! Grayson! Wait!"

Dick walked to his motorcycle. "Crime doesn't wait, baby bird. You stay here in the nest and rest up. I'll be back later."

"No, you _will _wait for me! Do you understand? You are _not _leaving me behind." He tried to pull away, but, realizing that Alfred's needle was still in his arm, froze.

Dick hopped on his bike and turned it on. "Gotta go." He revved the engine, and, above the din, shouted to his brother. "Oh, and I've killed the Batmobile's engine!" He dangled the kill switch key from his fingers. "Don't bother trying to take it out!"

With that, he was gone, and Damian was left swearing words that no ten-year-old boy should know.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

Dick ditched the motorcycle a block away from Devon's building, and jogged the rest of the way.

He pulled himself up the tree easily, and, within minutes, was perched outside of her darkened window, which was open.

He grinned, and touched the infrared optics on his mask. He could see her feet at the bottom of the bed, and, without hesitating, he swung into the window.

She was asleep; he approached her bed quietly, and squatted down next to it.

In the night vision optics, she looked odd, so he turned them off and shook her shoulder.

"Devon," he whispered. "Devon, love, wake up. It's me – Nightwing." Sometimes, saying his own name sounded stupid. This was one of those times.

She stirred, finally, and, startled, she jumped, her hand going to her heart. "You scared the crap out of me."

He chuckled and sat on the edge of her bed. "Sorry." He said, in a voice an octave lower than his own. "You okay?" He ran a hand up her arm.

Even though he could not see it, she smiled. "Now that you're here I am." She leaned into him.

"Hmm." That was the only thing he could think to say when she was so close to him.

She kissed him, and brought her hands up to frame his face. Her tongue parted his lips and plunged into his mouth, and he slid his arms around her. She pulled her mouth from his to pepper his face with small kisses, and his hands stole under the back of her t-shirt.

"Gloves." She reminded, and, with a low laugh, he stripped them off and threw them aside.

"Better?" He asked, as his fingers skimmed lightly over her skin.

"Yes. Oh, yes." She kissed his chin, loving the feel of stubble against her lips. "Was it presumptuous of me to worry about you last night?"

He kissed her forehead and ran his lips down to her neck. "Were you?"

"Yes. I admit it." Her hands slid down to his utility belt.

"I'll do that." He unbuckled it, and allowed it to fall to the floor before moving to kiss her again. So," he asked, his mouth against hers, "were you _really _worried?" It gave him a warm feeling to know that she cared.

She started to tug his uniform top over his head. "I know I don't have a right to be. I mean, we didn't exactly lay down ground rules for what's acceptable for – uh – _nocturnal _partners."

She could hear his laughter through the uniform over his head, and she finally got it off.

"Nocturnal partners. I like that." He smiled.

His hands went to her waist, and, lying back, he brought her on top of him. She leaned forward and bent down to gently bite at one of his nipples.

He giggled, and she froze. "Did you just – _giggle_?"

There was a huge grin on his face. "It tickles."

She smiled wickedly. "Really?" She took his nipple in her mouth again, and began teasing it with her tongue, then repeated it on the second.

"This is torture." He groaned, and she could feel his erection growing against her.

She nipped playfully at his pectoral muscles, and his hands moved up under her t-shirt, his fingers dragging along her spine.

She made a low murmuring sound, and moved to take his mouth. He pulled her shirt over her head, and she shook her arms to let it fall to the bed between them.

She found herself on her back suddenly, with him looming over her.

"My turn." He grinned.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

She lay with her head pillowed on his stomach, sated, her fingers running through the hair that stretched down from his belly button, and making small patterns on his skin.

She felt a rough patch, and began tracing it. "What's this?" She asked idly.

He lifted his head and gave it a brief look. "War wounds."

"Really?" She pushed herself up and turned on the light next to the bed. Behind his mask, Dick blinked at the brightness, and turned off the optics in his mask.

She settled herself against him, and examined the puckered scar, which ran in a horizontal line out from his umbilicus for about two inches.

"It looks serious."

Nightwing shrugged. "I'm fine now."

"What happened?"

"That? I don't really remember. Let me think." He was silent as he thought. "Oh, yeah. It was Harley Quinn, back when the Joker _really _had her under his thumb. She knifed me."

"Shit." Devon breathed quietly, and ran her fingers up from that scar to another.

"Are you going to start tickling me again?" He tightened his muscles self-consciously.

She smiled faintly, but did not remove her eyes from an examination of his torso. "Your body looks like a road map. Or a connect-the-dots picture." Her fingers ran from one scar to another on his abdomen. "You got all these from fighting criminals?"

"Nah. Most of them were from skateboarding."

Her eyes snapped to his face, and he grinned at her mischievously.

She smiled, and smacked his stomach lightly. "Not fair. I can't see your eyes, so I don't know if you're serious or not."

"I'm not."

She turned back to her inspection. "You've gotten hurt a lot." She kissed the long scar, her lips closing over it tenderly.

He shrugged, and stroked her hair. "I guess."

She folded her arms over his chest, and looked up at him. "Why do you do it?"

"Do what? Get hurt? It's not intentional, you know."

"No. Why do you do the – hero thing? It's _obviously_ dangerous."

"But I get to meet pretty girls." He pulled her up for a kiss.

After the kiss, she laid her head against his chest, and listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady. "Do _nocturnal partners_ get to ask questions like that?"

His hand rubbed her back lightly. "Of course." He was quiet for a long moment. "It's all I know, really. I mean, I have another job – you know, a _day_ job." _Tread carefully, Dick_! _Don't give anything away_! "But I've been doing this _forever_, and – I like it. I like helping people. I like protecting them."

There was silence, and she pressed a lingering kiss over his heart. "I understand. It scares me – a little, but I understand."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Late That Night**

Damian opened one eye when he heard the low alarm next to his bed. He turned over and looked at the screen that told him that the passage leading to the Batcave had been opened.

Grayson was home.

Grayson was home, and he was going to _pay_ for leaving Damian behind.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hello, readers! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. I am now back home after being away for a while, and, hopefully, I will be able to get back to writing on a more regular basis. I will not be updating "The Spirit Within" today, but I hope to get a chapter done this week so that I have something to post in that fic next week. Luckily, I have quite a few "Shatter Me" chapters in reserve, so, barring any other life complications, there should be no interruption in this fic.

As of this posting, Feb 24, 2013, there is still a strong online effort to save "Young Justice" and "Green Lantern: The Animated Series" from being cancelled by Cartoon Network. Anything you can do to support that would be appreciated. Go to Cartoon Network's Facebook page, send them a tweet at cartoonnetwork, or go their website feedback page to support the shows.

Please, if you enjoyed this chapter, REVIEW!


	24. Chapter 24

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

Damian Wayne did not like to be bested. He was competitive, by nature, and raised, by his mother, to succeed at all things, and to conquer all people.

Therefore, he was angry that his older brother – his _inferior, adopted _older brother had outsmarted him.

Actually, Damian reasoned, Grayson had not _outsmarted _him_, _but had _tricked _him. Such was the product of his _carnival _upbringing.

But Grayson would not be allowed to repeat such a transgression.

No, Damian Wayne would _not _be fooled again. If he had learned anything at the knee of his perfidious, devious mother, it was to strike – preemptively and decisively.

As the betrayer slept, Damian stole into the Batcave and went to the cabinet where Nightwing kept his uniform and gadgets. He carefully laid Grayson's utility belt out, and, with fingers steadied by righteous indignation, affixed the smallest tracer in the Batman's arsenal to the belt's leather, where it was concealed by one of the pouches.

He stood back to look at his handiwork, and smiled. Grayson would not escape him again.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Morning**

The text alert vibrated the phone in the pocket of Devon's uniform apron, and, as she pulled the phone from her pocket, she guessed who it might be.

Dick.

_**Been practicing lately, little girl**_**?**

Not Dick – Larry. He must be back. Damn it! He hadn't been gone long enough.

Her pulse quickened. Did he know about her – _relationship_ with Nightwing? Probably not – Larry wasn't well known for subtlety; had he known, he would have come in person.

_Been busy. _She typed.

_**Do your priorities need clarification?**_

_No._

_**We wouldn't want there to be some sort of accident because YOU weren't prepared.**_

_I'll be there tonight._

_**See you then.**_

"Shit." Devon whispered, and shoved the phone into her pocket. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Afternoon**

Devon wasn't the only one sent dismaying texts that day.

As Dick was in class, he received a text from Bruce.

_**Things more complicated here than I expected.**_

Dick looked around briefly to see if the professor was watching him.

_Everything okay?_

_**Yes, but I won't be back until Friday night at the earliest.**_

Dick sighed. Today was Wednesday. That meant that he had at least two more nights with Damian. He loved being with his younger brother, but he _really _wanted to visit Devon again.

Dick set his jaw in thought. Escaping Damian would require some serious finagling on his part. There was _no _way that his brother would let himself be left behind again. That meant that Dick had to be creative. _Very _creative.

As he left class, he called Tim.

"Hey, Dick, what's up?"

"The sky, little bro. How's everything going with the apartment?"

"I got it!"

"Great! Congrats! Brought your fish?"

"He _loves_ it! I got him a bigger bowl. Not too big, though. Bettas don't like a lot of room."

"Sounds unnatural. Don't most animals want more room to roam – uh – swim?"

"They're weird little fish. What's going on?

"Ah, well, Bruce is out of town."

"Where'd he go?"

"Believe it or not, Afghanistan."

There was a low whistle from Tim's end. "That's _definitely _'out of town.'"

"Yeah. He left Damian with me."

"Better you than me."

Dick's hopes of leaving Damian with Tim were dampened, but not dashed. "I was thinking of bringing him to see your new place."

"Yeah, sure – hey! You're trying to _dump _him on me!"

"What? No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. I can tell by the way your voice got a little bit higher. It always does that when you're lying to me."

Dick sighed. "Look, bro, there's a girl I _really _want to see, and I _obviously _can't take Damian with me."

"Is it Barbara?"

Dick sighed. "Why does everyone ask that?"

"Because you two are perfect for each other."

"Well, tell her that."

"I have."

"No, it's not Barbara."

"So you want _me _to babysit the brat while you go get your rocks off? No way!"

Dick groaned. "Come on, Tim. I'll owe you big."

"Dude, you could _never _repay a debt that big. Why don't you just leave him with Alfred?"

"I did that last night. He's not going to fall for it again."

"Dick, I'm sorry, but I've got a _major _test coming up on Friday, and I don't have time to disarm all the booby traps that Damian is sure to leave behind."

"He only did that _once_."

"Yeah, well, tell my old roommate that. He had to be on _prescription-strength_ painkillers for a month! I'm _really _sorry, but I can't."

Dick sighed. "It's okay. Thanks anyway."

"Hey, when you get a chance, and, you know, when you _aren't _babysitting Damian, you should come hang out with me."

Despite his disappointment, Dick smiled. "Sure thing. Maybe this weekend."

"That'll be cool."

"Good luck on your test, little bro."

"Good luck getting rid of Damian."

Dick clicked off and put his phone away. Back to square one with getting a babysitter for Damian.

As he walked along, an idea came to him, and his step faltered. It was a Machiavellian plan – a plan that he would, normally, never consider.

He pulled out his phone again, and dialed a very familiar number.

When the call was answered, he put on his best casual voice. "Hey, Babs. You want to patrol together tonight?"

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

Night fell at a little after five in November in Gotham, and, so, by seven, the time at which Devon's last class ended, it felt like midnight. She took the bus directly to the warehouse and skipped dinner, in hopes of getting home at a decent hour.

She found Larry there, practicing archery, and watched him for a few minutes. He was good, but not great. Although all of his arrows hit the rings, only one hit the bullseye.

"Don't quit your day job." She approached him.

He let an arrow fly, and lowered his bow. "Yeah, well, I'm not the archer in the family. I'm more of a _heavy_ weapons type."

"Your family matters turn out okay?" She was only idly interested, but it didn't hurt to _feign _interest.

"More or less." He turned to her. "I understand you had an assignment while I was gone."

"I'm sure you know all about it."

"I _know_ you were hesitant at first."

Her ears reddened. "Wouldn't you be hesitant if you went up against Batman?"

Larry shrugged. "He's just a guy in rubber pajamas."

"Say that to his face."

"I have." He carried the bow to the arms cabinet, and pulled out her practice rifle. "How did it feel using this baby in the real world?"

She took it and looked to see if it was loaded. "It's a nice gun."

"Nice?! It's one of the best in the world!"

"For killing people."

"It's not for scratching your back, that's for sure."

"Yeah, well, I'm trying to make it through life without becoming a murderer."

He pointed at her. "And we won't make you one. That's why you really should practice – you wouldn't want to actually hit poor, _little _Robin, would you?"

She suddenly wanted to crack him across the jaw with the gun, but she controlled herself. "Do you think killing a kid is a joke?"

He poked her in the chest with one massive finger. "No. What it _is _is another reason why you should practice."

She grabbed a box of ammunition from the closet, and stomped away to set herself up to shoot.

He followed her. "You know, all in all, you didn't make a bad impression."

She looked at him sharply. "On who?"

He gave her a tight smile. "On _decision _makers."

"These _decision _makers. They're the ones who will _decide _when I've paid off my debt?"

"Yeah. So you better work _extra _hard to impress them."

"I live for it." She turned away from him, set up a shot, and pulled the trigger. One of Larry's arrows exploded.

He smiled. "You're pretty good."

"I had a demanding teacher."

"You're welcome."

She gave him a fulminating look, and turned back to the gun. She shot several more times, while Larry watched her with arms folded and a small smile on his face.

"Not too bad. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't keep up the practice. A couple of times a week at least."

"A couple of times a week?" That would _seriously_ cut into not only her study time, but also into her _nocturnal _activities with Nightwing.

"Can't swing it?"

"I – I don't know."

"Well, make the time. There is _nothing_ as important as this mission."

"To you, maybe."

He grabbed her arm painfully – the first time he had ever used the threat of physical violence against her. "It _should _be important to you. That is, if you want to live to collect that _precious _degree of yours."

She set her jaw pugnaciously, her only act of rebellion, and glared at him until he released her.

He gave a low laugh. "We'll be in touch. _Be _ready."

With that, he was gone, and Devon was left trembling with fear.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

Barbara stood impatiently in the shadow of Gotham Cathedral, waiting for Dick and Damian. When he had called earlier to ask if she would like to patrol with them, she had almost declined. She and Dick had a lot to discuss, and she didn't think that they could do that with Damian around. Hell, she _knew _that they couldn't talk about things with Damian around.

She heard the sound of a jumpline retracting, and Nightwing landed next to her, followed by Robin.

Dick smiled broadly at her. "Hey, Batgirl."

"Hi, Nightwing, Robin." She drew in a deep breath. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, if you are." They walked out onto the front steps of the church. "Thanks for coming with us tonight."

"No problem. It'll be – fun."

"Yeah." He nodded. "Robin was listening to the police scanner on the way over, and he heard about some punks stealing purses at the mall."

"We're going after cutpurses at the _mall_?"

He grinned. "Too good for the mall, Batgirl?"

"I haven't hung out at the mall since I was seventeen."

"Are you saying you can't go home again?" His smile was mischievous, and _damn _attractive.

_Be strong, Barbara_! She told herself. _You broke up with him for a __**reason**_!

"No. I'm saying I don't _want _to go home again – er, the _mall _again."

"Well, if you think that the good citizens of Gotham who shop at the mall don't _deserve _protection..."

Her eyes narrowed. "Let's go, dick."

"Uh, uh, no names in the field." He wagged a finger at her.

"It was more of a _description_."

Damian gave an aggrieved grunt. "Can you two old women stop bickering so we can _just go_ already?"

Dick gave an exaggerated bow for Barbara. "After you, my lady."

She had to smile. He was such a goof.

They were at the mall within fifteen minutes, landing outside Killinger's Department Store, the largest in Gotham.

"Where to go first?" Dick tapped his teeth with his finger almost _coquettishly_. "Cold Stone Creamery? Or Hot Dog on a Stick?"

Robin looked at him with disgust. "We're not here for a _snack_, you half-wit! We're here to catch muggers!"

"Okay. Killinger's parking garage?" Barbara shrugged when the other two looked at her. "Where else can three people in spandex hide?"

"Good point." Dick nodded.

Batgirl shot her line to the top floor of the parking garage, and the others followed.

At the top, Robin activated the amplifier in his ear piece.

"Hear anything, baby bird?" Dick leaned against the concrete barrier ringing the upper floor.

Damian scowled at him. "You. Now be quiet." He began to walk towards the center of the structure, and the two older heroes followed him.

Barbara decided to broach the subject that had been troubling her recently – his recent withdrawal from her, although, if his actions now were anything to go by, that withdrawal was over. But something was not quite right. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something – odd. He was a little too _chatty_; there was a little too much chumminess in his conversation.

However, it was infinitely better than him ignoring or avoiding her.

"Nightwing," she whispered, "I'm glad that you called me. I – I've wanted to talk to you for a while."

Walking beside her, his hands clasped behind his back, he looked downright – _dreamy_. "Me, too, Batgirl."

Robin held up a hand. "I hear something. Something other than you two _chattering_." He added. "Two males, talking about a – score. Wait. Could be drugs. No, they're talking about a – car." He squinted as he listened. "A Mercedes M Class. They're going to steal it. Correction – they _are _stealing it."

"Which floor?" Dick asked.

"Don't know."

"There are six floors. It could be any of them." Barbara pointed out.

"Every floor but this one." Dick looked around at the mostly empty parking spaces.

"Can you get any more information, Robin?"

"No. I can do something better." He reached into one of his utility belt pouches, and pulled out something that looked like a cell phone. "It's a sonic disruptor."

"A who's it what's it?" Dick peered at it.

"Father brought it home from Lucius Fox before he left. It is supposed to send out a high-frequency sonic wave that will activate –"

Barbara finished the statement. "Things like car alarms."

Robin nodded, and Nightwing looked at him with petulance. "I _work _there, and Lucius didn't give it to _me_!"

"When you pay the bills, _Nightwing_, you'll get the swag."

"Good to know. So, when you use that little doodad, it'll set _all _the alarms off, right?"

"Yes. Theoretically."

"So," Barbara smiled, "it should scare the _crap_ out of our car thieves."

Dick turned to her. "Let's get downstairs and pick them off as they make their getaway."

She smiled at him. "Thought you'd never ask."

He slapped Damian lightly on the shoulder. "Wait two minutes, then use it. But stay safe up here."

Damian nodded, and Dick and Barbara sprinted down the stairs, stationing themselves on the first floor. As they took up positions near the exit doors, she looked over at him. With his skin flushed from the run, and his hair tousled, he looked – _amazing_.

_Why couldn't it have worked out_? She asked herself. _Why can't we be together_?

_Because he's not the boy you met ten years ago – and because you're **nothing **like the girl he met. And it wouldn't work. And it **wasn't **working._

Just then, all the car alarms in the garage went off simultaneously, and she and Nightwing readied themselves.

Within a minute, two men came pounding down the stairs, running for the exit.

Dick turned to Babs. "You take the smaller one!" He yelled to make himself heard.

She glared at him. "Why do _I _get the smaller guy?!" She called back.

Dick looked dismayed. "Because – you're – younger?"

"I'm _older_!" She shouted indignantly.

He raised his hands in defeat. "Take the bigger one!"

"Thank you!" She raced towards the taller of the two men, and, within two minutes, both thieves were on the ground, wrists bound.

Dick touched his ear comm. "Good job, Robin. You can turn off the alarms and come down to the first floor."

"I'm trying." Damian's voice crackled through the piece in Dick's ear. "It's not working."

Dick raised a hand to his head, and looked at Barbara. "He doesn't know how to shut them off!" He yelled to her.

By this time, car owners were streaming into the parking garage, drawn by the sound of dozens of car alarms.

Dick shrugged at Barbara, who turned weak smiles onto her grateful public. "Just a little device malfunction, folks!" She shouted to them. "It'll be just a minute!"

Choruses of yelled "what's going on here," as well as "I can't hear anything," and, "can you turn those alarms _off_" came from all around her, and she made hand gestures to indicate helplessness.

Confused faces seemed to plead for answers.

"We're trying to get them off! If you would all please just BE PATIENT?" The last two words sounded especially loud when, simultaneously, all the car alarms silenced.

Dick grinned at her, and she looked around, embarrassed, at all the faces staring at her.

She cleared her throat. "Situation under control, folks." She smiled. "You can – go about your business."

As the milling crowd began to depart, she walked over to Dick. He had a hand to his ear, and held up a finger to indicate a need for silence.

"Yes, ma'am. On the bottom floor of the parking garage. Yes. Thank you. Oh, no problem. It's my pleasure." He pushed the comm button, and turned to her. "The GCPD will be here soon."

"Okay." She looked at the perps lying on the ground. "Let's drag their sorry butts to the car they were trying to steal."

"Good idea." He yanked one of them to a standing position. "Now, gentlemen, you are going to _take _us to the car you were trying to _liberate_, and I won't sic Batgirl on you."

The two criminals looked at each other nervously, and Dick gave them an encouraging smile. "Do we have a deal? Because, let me tell you, the tips of her boots are _really _sharp, and they can do a _lot _of damage to your _tender _areas."

"Yeah, okay." One of the men grumbled. "Third floor. Red Mercedes."

"Ah, good, let's go." Dick dragged the other to his feet, and began marching them up the stairs.

Robin stood at the top of the first flight of stairs. "I took care of it."

Dick chuckled. "We noticed."

The three heroes and two criminals went up to the third floor, and found a satchel with break-in tools in it.

"Yours?" Dick nudged it with his toe.

One of the men nodded sullenly.

"Good. Good. This should be an open and shut case." He turned to Robin. "Robin, could you please call the GCPD back and let them know that we're now on the _third_ floor?"

Robin nodded, and Dick turned to Babs. "Batgirl, it has been _so _great patrolling with you."

She smiled. It _had _been nice.

He returned the smile. "You seem to have things here under control. Could you see that Robin gets back home safely?"

Her smile melted away. "You – you're leaving?"

"Something's come up. Look, the police are on their way. You'll be out of here in thirty minutes, tops."

"B – but..." She didn't know what to say.

Robin, who had swiveled to Dick, looked at his older brother accusingly.

"Thanks, so much. I _really _appreciate it." Dick started to move off. "Robin can ride on the back of your motorcycle."

"B – but..." She began again. "We were supposed to – _talk_!"

He began walking backwards away from her. "We will. Promise. Look – we'll go for coffee. No – lunch! My treat. You pick the place." With that, he gave a wave, and ran off.

She looked at his retreating back, her jaw agape.

"I think you got ditched, Missy." One of the prisoners said to her.

Her face darkened, and she gave him a light kick in his thigh. "You shut up."

Robin walked up to her, and crossed his arms on his chest. "I want to go home now."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I wanted to post a chapter today (2/27/13), so that Damian fans might feel better after our hearts were dragged through the mud in "Batman, Inc.," which I haven't even read yet. I am dreading doing so, to be honest, because Damian is my second favorite character behind Dick (natch!), and the thought of him dying is just too much for me to handle right now.

The fact that this is such a Damian-heavy chapter is just coincidence, or perhaps it is serendipity. I actually needed to re-read this today, and revisit a portrait of a vibrant, living Damian. The fact that Devon asks Larry if he thinks killing a child is a joke is just also, oddly, coincidental. I wrote this LONG before I knew that Damian would fall.

For those of you who are wondering, I **WILL NOT **be killing Damian off in this fic AT ALL. As I said to one of my faithful readers (and now email pals), Damian will remain alive and ten and funny and difficult, and, later on in the story, will have an interesting relationship with Devon (not sexual, don't worry) - which will cause some VERY interesting interactions amongst those in the Batfamily.

Now, for the rest of the notes:

Although there is a Killinger's Department Store in Gotham, I don't know where it's located, and I don't know if there is a mall at all. However, I needed someplace very pedestrian for Nightwing to dump Batgirl and Robin, and a mall seemed like a good place. Gotham should have a mall, though!

Regarding the "sonic disruptor," I made it up. But Batman has so many cool devices, I felt safe making it up!

By the way, Dick was a little bit of a jerk in this chapter. I'm glad I got to show him being human and selfish – he's just too perfect, and no one can be perfect all the time!

Did you like Barbara's point of view at the end of this chapter? We got to see what she really feels for Dick, but nothing concrete on what broke them up – I don't want to contradict canon, so I'm being intentionally vague!

Also, regarding Larry, you may have guessed, by now, who he is...

You may also have figured out what the "family problems" that took him away from Devon were. Let's just say that they involved Roy and Lian directly...

Please review! I really appreciate the reviews; I read them all, and I TRY to respond to all of them, as well!

P.S. I'm kind of behind on responding...


	25. Chapter 25

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

10:45. Shit. It was almost _eleven _o'clock, and she still had _nine _blocks to go.

Devon left the warehouse later than she intended, and, as a result, missed the last bus, and had to walk to the next bus stop, five blocks away.

She had waited at the warehouse until Larry had gone so that she could take a small handgun from the weapons cabinet. His unusual display of aggression had unnerved her, and she felt that she needed some sort of protection. It might do nothing against the behemoth except slow him down, but that was better than nothing.

So, as a result of that, she was bouncing along in a city bus on one of its last runs of the night, an hour later than she had intended.

She had also skipped dinner altogether, so she was ravenously hungry. And she still had to get home, shower, hide the gun, and grab something to eat before Nightwing came.

_If _he came. It wasn't as if he _came _every night. But, if he did, she wanted to be there. Not only because he might ask awkward questions regarding her whereabouts, but also because she _wanted _to be there. The thought that he might come, not find her there, and leave was – well, it was something that she _didn't _want.

It was after eleven by the time she unlocked the back door, and she ran up the stairs.

As she pounded through the apartment, her grandmother, watching television, called out to her. "Finally home?"

"Yes, Grandma! Obviously!" She threw open the door to her bedroom. The window was closed and the curtains drawn, and she gave a sigh of relief as she pried up the floorboard that concealed the sniper rifle. The handgun and ammunition joined it, and she set the board carefully back into place.

"What's that for?" Her grandmother had sneaked up behind her, and Devon jumped.

After she had calmed, she gave her grandmother an angry look. "Insurance."

"What _kind _of insurance?"

"The kind that _insures _that Larry won't find us defenseless." She pulled her bathrobe off the back of her door, and headed for the bathroom.

Her grandmother frowned, and followed. "Did something happen between you two?"

Devon was hesitant to tell her grandmother of the incident – she did not want to worry the older woman. "No. It's just that he – scares me sometimes." In the bathroom, she began disrobing.

Marie shook her head. "He's not like that."

Devon stopped and looked at her grandmother in disbelief. "Grandma, he's not _really _related to us! Why _wouldn't_ you think he'd hurt us?"

"Because I've known him a long time, Devon, and, you know, when you've _known _someone as long as I've known him – " She was cut off by her granddaughter.

"Grandma, he's a criminal and an assassin, and he's trying to make me the same. Hell, he already has!"

"You haven't killed anyone."

"So I'm not a _successful_ assassin. Big deal. I still aim a _big _gun at people. And shoot at them. What do you call that? I'm not an ice cream man!"

"He wouldn't hurt us, Devon. I'm certain of it."

Devon finished kicking her clothes off. "Whatever. Look, I'm going to take a shower, grab something to eat, and go to bed. I'm wiped out."

Her grandmother nodded. "I left some pasta for you."

"Thank you."

Marie looked at her with hurt eyes. "Good night, dear." As Devon turned to go, she continued. "I love you, you know. I only want what's best for you."

Devon sighed, tears tight in her throat. "I know, Gran. I know."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

Dick was in a good mood as he sped on his motorcycle towards Devon's building. He really did have a good time with Barbara. It felt _great_ working with her again, and he wondered why it was so different from other recent times. Then, it came to him. He didn't _want _anything from Barbara anymore. Well, he _did _want her to take Damian from him, but he didn't want anything else. For the first time in _months_, he didn't want her to take him back. He didn't want to change her mind about the break-up. She was a _friend_ again – nothing more. He would always love her, and he would probably always feel an attraction to her, but the _need –_ the gnawing need that he had had to be _with _her – that was gone. He could be in her presence and not be consumed by her.

And that was _huge_.

He slid his bike behind a dumpster, engaged the security, and sent a line up to the top of one of the buildings. He was starting to know this area of Gotham _extremely _well; he knew which buildings to launch to, how many steps he had to take on each roof before he had to launch the next jumpline, and how many minutes it took to complete his journey.

He lowered himself into the cedar tree's limbs and perched outside Devon's window. It was closed and the curtains drawn, and he experienced acute disappointment. She told him, the first night that they were together, that, if her window was closed, she was not available. Looks like she wasn't available.

He sat back with a sigh. Shit. He had gotten rid of Damian for nothing. And now Barbara was probably mad at him. Shit.

The drapes twitched back then, and the window opened, and a huge smile came over his face as he saw her in the dark.

"Did you sense me out here?"

She stepped back to let him in, and he landed next to her without a sound.

She was in a short bathrobe, her hair was wet, and he could smell the sweet scent of soap. He wanted to strip her naked and bury himself in her – bury himself in the softness and the scent.

"Sorry. I had to shower and it was cold in here, and –" He interrupted her by pulling her to him by the bathrobe belt.

He had a wicked smile on his face. "I don't mind." He accidentally slipped back into his natural voice, low and throaty, as he bent down to kiss her neck.

Her hands came up uncertainly to push through his hair. _God_, she loved his hair. It was so _thick _and _black_ and smelled so _good_. _Be honest, Devon, there is **nothing **that you **don't** love about him_.

His fingers pulled the end of the belt, and he slid the robe from her shoulders. She was nude beneath, and his legs became weak. _Shit, I am the __**luckiest **__man on Earth. _

He picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to the bed. He laid her down, and, with optics on, he stood looking at her. She was perfect. Everything about her was perfect, from her face to the size of her breasts to her long legs to – well, _everything._

She lifted her arms to him, and he leaned over, his hands bracing himself as he lowered himself for a kiss.

She smiled against his mouth, and ran her hands up his arms. "Don't you think that you're a _little _overdressed?" She asked as he moved to nuzzle her ear.

"Let's remedy that." He whispered.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

Damian gave a perfunctory wave as Batgirl drove from the Batcave, and, when she was out of sight, raced to his room, blowing past a startled Pennyworth and followed by Titus, barking merrily.

He slammed the door after the dog entered, and locked the knob. He threw open the drawer on his bedside table, and pulled out a small electrical device. After punching in his code, the screen leapt to life, and a small red light winked at him.

He smiled. The tracker was working. He called up the GPS coordinates on it, and, interfacing with the Batcomputer (through an untraceable log-in), he found the address and the name of the business there: the Fifth Street Diner in downtown Gotham.

"What the hell is Grayson doing at a _diner_ after _midnight_?" He looked at Titus as he pondered it. Could it be an all-night diner? And, if Grayson had simply been _hungry, _couldn't they have gone to get food together? And since when did Nightwing disappear to go _eat_? In his uniform?

Well, he didn't know, but he was going to find out.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

Dick pressed a kiss to Devon's head and lay there, stroking her back lightly. He could feel goosebumps on her flesh. "Are you cold?"

She shook her head against his chest, and ran her hand over his abdomen. "No. Your touch just – does _something_ to me." She smiled up at him. "Something good."

"I'm glad."

There was silence for several moments, until she spoke. "Is – this – what we do – cutting into your hero time?"

He chuckled. "No. Not really. I mean, I realized a long time ago that I couldn't – _we_ couldn't – stop every crime."

"We? You and Batman?"

"Yeah. Although there are more of us now."

"A whole gaggle of crime fighters?"

"Well, not a _gaggle_ exactly."

"So, do you – fight crime – with them, or on your own?"

"Mostly on my own."

"No sidekick?"

He laughed. "Are you volunteering?"

"How does it pay?" She kissed his pectoral. She loved the smoothness of it, and the evident power in its size.

"Sourly."

"I guess I'll pass. I'll just do my community service by – um – _servicing_ you."

"Works for me."

"Do you ever – regret the choice you've made?"

"Which one?"

"Being this. I mean, I know that you said you like protecting people, and I _get _that – I really do. But your life – can it be normal? Do you _want _it to be normal? Normal's overrated." She seemed to answer her own question.

"I don't know. I've been thinking about it a lot more often lately. I'm not getting any younger, and I kind of need to decide what I want to do. I don't know if I want to be swinging from buildings and getting shot at with a wife and kids at home."

Startled, she sat up, and his arms fell to his side. "I – I wasn't _hinting _at anything. You know that, don't you? What we have – here, this is great. I wasn't suggesting..." She trailed off.

"No. I know. It's a good question. It's a _valid_ question. It's okay. Really. I know you didn't mean anything – else."

She lay back down next to him, twining her legs with his. "I kind of wish I had a full-size bed." She wanted to change the subject.

"Why? Don't you like being so _close_ to me?" He teased.

"No, it's not that. _Believe _me. I could sleep tangled up with you for _hours_. It's just that," she reached down to close her hand around him, and he jumped. "Sometimes we're limited by – you know – _room_."

One of his hands cupped her rear. "We'll make do."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Day**

_**Dude, I need your jelp.**_

Dick looked at his phone and smiled. Wally.

_Dude, I ran out of jelp last night._

_**Ha ha. Funny. I need your muscles.**_

Dick chuckled and pushed away from the kitchen counter. He walked his breakfast dishes to the sink, and smiled at Alfred, who took them from him. Damian had eaten earlier and had disappeared into his room. He was still miffed at being dumped two nights in a row, and he was giving Dick the silent treatment.

_Sounds INTERESTING_. Dick typed.

_**Sick. I need your help moving furniture.**_

_Then call Mal. Or Conner. _He walked to Bruce's study, where he had left his laptop.

_**I did. They're both busy.**_

Dick's jaw dropped. _So I was your THIRD choice? _

There was a long delay in Wally answering.

_**Of course not! I just know how busy you are.**_

Dick laughed and shook his head. _Kiss ass._

_**I've been told that before. Can you do it?**_

_When?_

_**Like now-ish.**_

_Is this because you need a car to pick up this piece of furniture?_

_**No. Really. It's sitting in my front room. I need help moving it to the bedroom BEFORE Artemis gets back. At ELEVEN.**_

Dick sighed. _What are best friends for?_

_**To move furniture.**_

_I'll be right there._

_**I owe you, buddy.**_

_Yeah, right. _He walked back to the kitchen. "Alfie, I've got to go help Wally move some furniture. I'll just go to class after that."

"Will you be back for dinner, Master Richard?"

"Of course. I don't get a chance to eat your cooking enough. I am not missing even _one_ night while I'm here. What's on the menu?"

"Chinook salmon and saffron risotto."

"The end of the run on the Deschutes River?" Bruce always had salmon flown in from Washington state in the fall, when the salmon runs occurred.

"Indeed, Sir. They were a bit late this year."

"I can't wait. Sounds delicious."

"I do hope it turns out that way."

"If you're the chef, A, I'm sure it will."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I'm going to say good-bye to Damian. He's been in a bad mood all morning."

"He doesn't like to be left behind when you go out patrolling alone, Sir."

Dick sighed. "I know. But he can't be involved in _everything _I do. Bruce makes him stay home sometimes."

"And he resents it then, too, Master Richard. He is just _less_ used to it from you."

Dick frowned in thought. He really had sacrificed time with Damian in favor of being with Devon. He was a shitty brother. Well, he would patrol with Damian tonight – all night, if his little brother wanted.

"I'll talk to him about it."

"That might be best."

Dick took the stairs two at a time to Damian's room and knocked on the door. There was a bit of a commotion inside, and then Damian ripped the door open. He scowled when he saw who it was.

"What do you want, Grayson?"

Dick smiled uncertainly. "Just wanted to say goodbye. I've got to go – do something, and then go to class."

Damian turned and threw himself on his bed. "What do I care?"

"Oh. Well, I just didn't want to be – rude."

"And _abandoning _me two nights in a row _isn't _rude?"

Dick sighed and came to sit on his brother's bed. "I'm sorry, Dami. I just had – things to do. I promise, tonight, that we'll patrol together – and I won't leave you behind."

Damian waved his hand carelessly. "I can't go patrolling tonight."

"What? Why?"

"Colin got an Xbox, and we're going to play _Call of Duty_ online." Colin was one of Damian's only friends, an orphan about the same age as the youngest Wayne.

Dick was taken aback. "Oh. Oh. I guess that his foster family's working out okay."

Damian shrugged. "I guess. He doesn't talk much about it. But he says they may adopt him."

"That's great! And they bought him an Xbox! That's a good sign."

Damian shrugged again and pulled out his mp3 player. "Whatever." He put the earphones on, and closed his eyes, clearly dismissing his older brother.

Dick looked at his brother and sighed. End of conversation.

He got up and left, shutting the door behind him.

As the lock clicked, Damian opened his eyes. He wasn't playing _Call of Duty_ with Colin that night. He just wanted Dick to think that. He had _other _plans for the night.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Morning**

Dick knocked lightly on Wally's door, and, before his knuckles had left the wood, the door opened.

"Hey, friend. Pal. Best buddy." Wally smiled too brightly.

Dick groaned. "I'm going to regret this."

Wally stepped aside to let him enter. "No, no, Really. It's not too bad."

A large cedar blanket chest surrounded by cardboard evidently ripped from its sides, sat in the middle of the entrance hall.

"It's a – chest." Dick said unnecessarily.

"A _hope _chest."

"A hope chest?"

"Yeah, you know. Girls used to get them before they got married, and they filled them with stuff – like dresses and sheets and stuff."

A huge grin split Dick's face. "Have you two set the date?"

Wally blushed. "No. But I'm hoping this will – move it along a little." He ran his hand over the wood of the chest reverently. "She always wanted one of these. Apparently Larry's mom had one, and, when she was little, Artemis used to sit on it to read books. She always talks about how she and Jade used to read to each other, and how she loved the smell of the cedar."

"That's nice, Wally. Really. Hey, have you guys heard from Jade?"

Wally nodded. "Yep. Believe it or not, she went back to Star City, and Roy – took her back."

Dick smiled again. "That's good. I always wanted them to make it a success."

"Yeah, me, too." He clapped his hands. "Ready to do some heavy lifting?"

"Let's do it."

They each took an end, and, with some lifting from the knees, they started to move it towards the bedroom.

"So what prompted you to buy this now?" Dick asked as he walked backwards through the apartment.

"Early Christmas present."

"Way to think ahead!"

"What can I say? I'm a wonderful, thoughtful boyfriend. And there was a sale."

"Always good."

Wally changed topics. "Did you talk to Babs yet?"

"Yeah, a little. Last night."

"Did you guys patrol together?" They maneuvered through the bedroom door.

"A little. We caught some car prowlers at the mall."

"Living dangerously at the mall?"

"Something like that."

"So did you two sort it out?"

"Sort what out?" They lowered the chest to the floor at the foot of the bed.

"You two. You getting back together?"

Dick shook his head. "I told you we're not getting back together. I'm with Devon now."

"What?!" It was a good thing that Wally had put his end of the chest down, because he would have dropped it. "You two are an _item_? The date worked out?"

Dick blushed. "Not exactly."

Wally's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean – not exactly?"

"Well, we _went _on the date, and she gave me the whole 'can't get involved' deal again, and then she left, and then..." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"_Then_ what?"

Dick sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for the lecture that he knew was coming. "Then she caught me outside her window and I came in and then..." he trailed off, and a grin came to his face with the memories of that night.

"You _slept_ with her?!" Wally was aghast

Dick looked down at his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah."

"Holy – Dick, you were hanging around outside her window in _civvies_?!"

He looked at Wally sharply. "No! Don't be ridiculous. I was wearing my uniform and mask."

"What? She knows who you _are_?" He looked around in alarm, as if someone might be eavesdropping.

"No! Of course not!"

Wally blinked at his friend for a long while, working through everything in his head before speaking. His eyes narrowed. "_You had sex with her as Nightwing_?!"

Dick put a hand to his forehead. "Yeah."

"Oh, my God! Have you lost your _mind_?! You had sex with her as Nightwing?! Didn't you take off your mask _at all_?!" His voice was scandalized.

"No. I told her that I wouldn't, and she – didn't care!"

Wally ran his fingers up through his hair until it was sticking up in clumps. "I don't _believe _this! You really _have _lost your mind! You're _sleeping _with a girl as your _alter ego_! There has to be some sort of law against that!"

Dick was miffed at Wally's overreaction. "Oh, yeah. I'm certain that I saw that in the City Code."

"Well, if you didn't, it's probably in the Justice League code!"

"Wally, I'm not doing anything wrong."

"Not doing anything wrong? You've been a _voyeur, _violating her privacy, you're misrepresenting yourself, and you're using your position to coerce her into _sex _with you."

Dick held up his hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I am _not _coercing her. She lets me in her room _every night_. It is entirely consensual, I assure you."

"Every night?!" Wally's hands came up to his cheeks. "You're sleeping with her _every night_?"

"Well, not every night. Almost every night."

Wally's eyes were huge, and, with his hand over his mouth, he paced the floor. Finally, he turned back to Dick. "What does Bruce say?"

"Bruce? _Bruce _doesn't say anything. He doesn't know."

"Don't you think he should?"

"Why? Devon and I are adults. It's really _none _of his business."

"You say that now, but when he finds out, and he_ will_ – you know he will! He'll have your head!"

"Let me worry about Bruce."

"And who's going to worry about _you_? Do you have any _idea _what would happen if this gets out?"

"Who's it going to _get out_ to, Wally?"

"Who knows? The media would have a field day!" He held up his hands, as if writing an imaginary headline. 'Nightwing Forces Co-ed into Sex!' _Film at eleven_! Oh, God!"

"Stop freaking out!"

"_Stop freaking out_?! You're my _best _friend, Dick. I _have_ to freak out when you so something so _incredibly _stupid!"

"It's not stupid, okay? I'm going to be fine. _We're _going to be fine."

"Who's _we_, Dick? Because it's not you and me – and Artemis. And Damian. And Bruce. And Tim."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"_You _say that _you're_ going to be fine, but what about _us_? What happens to us if it _does _come out? If your secret identity comes out? It's not just you in this, you know. It's _all _of us. _All of us_."

"It'll be fine, Wally. Trust me."

Wally's eyes narrowed. "Dude, you've asked me to trust you one too many times. I don't know if I can."

"Well, thanks, _buddy_. I appreciate that." His face and voice were sad.

He started to leave the room, but Wally, his anger deflated, stopped him. "Dick, don't go."

Dick turned to him, expectant.

Wally sighed. "You've painted yourself into a corner. Don't you _see _that? If you're serious, _really_ serious about this girl, how can you make a future with her if you've _lied_ to her?"

"I don't know." Dick shook his head. "I don't know. I – I never planned on this happening. It just – did. And, now, I don't _want_ to give it up."

"So you're going to just keep sleeping with her as Nightwing?"

"Yeah. For now."

Wally blew air out through his lips. "I need coffee. You want some?"

"Yeah. I'd love some."

They walked to the kitchen, and Wally put on a pot of coffee and got out two mugs. "So she _really _doesn't know that you're Nightwing?"

Dick pulled out a chair at the small table. "No."

"So, on this date of yours, she told you she couldn't get involved, but, _then_, the same night, she sleeps with you – who she doesn't know is you?" At Dick's nod, he shook his head. "Didn't that strike you as – _weird_?"

Dick blushed. "At the risk of sounding conceited, I think she slept with me – Nightwing, because she couldn't have me – Dick."

"Yeah, that's not conceited _at all_."

"It's just that she couldn't – or said she couldn't – be responsible to someone else right now. She doesn't have the time for a relationship – you know? She didn't want the dating and the phone calls and all that."

"Just the sex?"

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, I _offered _her that, you know, as Dick. No strings attached."

"And she said no?" The last of the coffee dripped into the pot, and Wally poured them both a mug

"Yeah."

"Why? It looks like that's what she's getting from you – er, Nightwing."

He shrugged, and wrapped both his hands around the cup. "She basically said that I – Dick – am – _is_ – damn, this is complicated! Anyway, Dick's too nice a guy to just – you know – _bang_."

Wally looked into his mug, and began chuckling.

Dick reddened. "It's not funny."

Wally nodded, and looked at his friend. "Yes, it is. You're too much of a boy scout to get down and dirty with."

"She didn't mean that! She meant that – well, she _said_ that – that she didn't think that we could get involved on _only _that level. That, if we started, it would just naturally turn into a relationship."

"Which she doesn't want."

Dick felt relief that Wally understood. "Exactly."

"So you think that she's sleeping with Nightwing because she can't have _Dick_? In a manner of speaking._"_

He nodded. "Yeah."

A mischievous smile came over Wally's face. "This is serious, and I _know _that it's serious, but I _have _to say it."

Dick rolled his eyes. "No, you don't."

"She's getting _Dick _anyway."

"Really? You had to go there?"

"Sorry. I couldn't resist it."

"Whatever." Dick looked disgusted, and Wally became serious again.

"But I don't get it." Wally took a sip of coffee. "She _really, really _doesn't know you're the same person? I mean, nothing personal, but _I _never thought your disguise was that good."

"Ha, ha."

"No. I'm serious now. All it does is cover your eyes."

"People see what they want to see – you know that."

"Yeah, I guess. But she didn't even think that you guys _kiss_ the same, or anything?"

"I – Dick – actually only kissed her once. The first time we went out – for coffee. It's been a while."

Wally looked confused. "Man, I need a diagram to understand this."

Dick gave a chuckle, and Wally continued. "You realize it's going to be impossible for you to stop being Nightwing and start being Dick with her, right?"

Dick looked miserable. "Yeah. I know."

"Are you – _in love_ with this girl?"

Dick sighed and closed his eyes. "Yeah. I really think I am."

Wally's face fell. "Oh, Dick. _Again_?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Dude, I have been in love exactly _one _time in my life." He held up a single finger. "_Most_ people only fall in love once. You have already been in love at _least_ four times, counting Devon."

Dick's face was stony. "I didn't know that _love_ is a limited quantity."

"It's not. I just think that – _maybe_ – you're confusing love and sex."

"I'm not."

"Look, you've always been kind of a dog –"

Dick threw up his hands. "So because I've had _three _serious girlfriends –"

"Dude, _don't _make me go through _all _of your 'girlfriends' – serious or not..." He used air quotes, and Dick crossed his arms on his chest.

"So this is going to be a lecture on my love life." Dick's eyes were narrowed.

"No!" Wally sighed. "I don't mean it to be. I just want you to – think about what you're going to do."

Dick pushed his fingers through his hair distractedly. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I really don't. I just – I don't want to stop seeing her."

Wally decided to give Dick a break, and just be his friend. "So the sex is good?"

A slow grin spread across Dick's face. "It's effing _amazing_. And so is she. We talk – a lot, afterwards. She's so – great. Open, and honest. She has no agenda – there's nothing that she _wants_ from me."

"Except incredible sex."

"I can provide that." Dick's grin was cheeky now.

Wally looked at him for a long time, then, finally, shrugged.

"Okay. Whatever. It's your life. You just better have an exit plan. I think you're going to need it."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Poor Dick thinks he's found a girl who isn't in "the life." That may come back to bite him in the butt! Also, this conversation fits in well with the canon that was set up in the "Young Justice" comic series, in which we find out that Wally has called Dick a "dog" in the past due to his romantic history!

Also, a note on Colin Wilkes. Colin appeared first in a Batman arc about Scarecrow, in which Colin was injected with a form of Venom that caused him to transform, much like Bane. Colin then appeared in _Streets of Gotham_, and was befriended by Damian. The two boys teamed up to fight Zsasz (with Colin as his alter ego, _Abuse_), and successfully took Zsasz down. Damian later gave him a custom motorcycle as a gesture of friendship and gratitude, perhaps, for saving Damian's life, and it was dubbed the Cycle of Abuse. He is one of Damian's only friends – and the only one Damian's age.

By the way, the word "jelp" in the first line of Wally's text is intentional. I accidentally typed that when I first wrote it, and decided to keep it because I thought that a texting super-fast human might make a mistake like that every so often!

On another, Nightwing-related note, I got a chance to chat with Kyle Higgins, the writer of the Nightwing comics, as ECCC this week, and he dropped some SERIOUS intel on me about the upcoming arc, which will commence with Nightwing #19 (#18 being an issue dealing with the aftermath of Damian's death). He swore me to secrecy, though, so I won;t be able to share. : ( He also shared some artwork from issue 19, from a new artist who is coming on board. It looks great, and I am relieved, because I haven't been super happy with the art on Nightwing since the reboot, but especially since the early teen issues. Eddy Barrows is not my favorite artist for faces, and Nightwing's face is SO important that I am very picky!

ALSO, I met Grey Delisle at the con, and she was great - funny, sweet, and VERY pretty! She also gave me some info on characters she will be doing on Legend of Korra this season. I got her to sign some Azula/Aya art, and I am giving it away on tumblr. So check out my blog later today (3/3/13) and the info will be up. You can find me at sea-dilemma at tumblr. it is a giveaway linked to our efforts to save Young Justice. Check it out!

Anyway, I hoped you liked this chapter, and PLEASE, PLEASE review!


	26. Chapter 26

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

**November 8th **

As soon as Dick bade Damian a good night and left the Cave, the youngest Wayne raced up the stairs to his room and grabbed the GPS tracer that would pinpoint his brother's location.

He looked at the statistics on his brother's whereabouts from the night before. He had spent nearly _four hours _at the Fifth Street Diner. Damian frowned. That amount of time precluded Grayson being there for _only _a meal.

His eyes narrowed. What was going on there? And how was _Grayson_ involved?

Damian was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery. Grayson would not get away from him tonight. Damian would follow him and find him, and make sure that Grayson _knew _that Damian Wayne would not be _dumped _on a butler or a – _girl_.

He watched, for an hour and a half, his brother make his way around Gotham, and, then, Damian's patience paid off. Nightwing was at the Fifth Street Diner again.

"Got you." Damian smiled, and headed for the Batcave, to dress and drag the old Batcycle back into service.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

**November 8th **

"You're early." Devon smiled as she let Nightwing in. She hadn't even opened the window yet.

"I couldn't stay away." He kissed her, and his hands went to the hem of her t-shirt. He yanked it up over her head and brought his mouth down to her breasts.

She growled low in her throat, and, supporting her beneath her rear, he picked her up, settling her right above his erection.

"You tease." She whispered to him.

"You shouldn't call me names. I'm a public servant." He smiled as he kissed her.

"Do I pay taxes for you? Because, if so, money _well _spent."

With a chuckle, he tossed her onto her bed, and she gave a small squeal. "If you did, that would make you my boss." He stripped off his own clothes at record speed, and she shimmied her underwear off.

"Can I give you a direct order, then?" She asked, wickedly.

"I think I know what it is." He put a knee on the bed and crawled to her.

* * *

Marie Wakeman couldn't sleep. She usually had _no _trouble sleeping. One cup of chamomile tea and an old episode of _CSI_ on TV, and she'd be fast asleep.

But, tonight, for some reason, sleep was eluding her. She watched the end of _CSI_, and had moved on to _Seinfeld. _ She never really understood that show – it _really _was a show about nothing.

Her cup of tea made her have to go to the bathroom, so she turned on her light, rose from her bed, slid on bedrooms slippers, as well as a robe, and headed for the bathroom, which was equidistant between her room and Devon's.

Her feet scuffed against the floor as she made her way there, and, as she shut the door, she became aware of an odd_, rhythmic _thumping on the wall. Looking around, she concentrated on the sound. It was very regular, with an interval of about a second between the sounds.

Could it be the plumbing pipes? In this old building, whistling and thumping pipes were not unheard of. She turned on the water in the sink, which should have equalized the pressure and stopped the noise, but they continued on, unabated.

_What the hell could that be? Rats? It could be rats. If they're pulling on the insulation, it might sound like that. _She puckered her forehead to listen. Huh. It sounded like it was in the wall between the bathroom and Devon's room.

She really ought to investigate it. What if it was the gas piping? Was it possible for air to get into those pipes? That could cause that sound – couldn't it? Could they explode if there was air in the line? It had been faulty gas pipes that had caused the fire that had killed Devon's parents and sister.

Her mind on rescuing her only living blood relative, she rushed from the bathroom and turned Devon's doorknob, expecting to go in, but she ran into the door instead.

That was – odd. Devon's door was locked.

Marie put her ear against the door. The rhythmic sound was louder here, and she swore that she could hear Devon moaning.

_Oh, my God_! _She can't breathe_!

Marie began pounding on the door. "Devon! Devon, get up! Are you all right? Can you breathe? Let me in!"

She continued to pound of the door, but a full thirty seconds passed before Devon yanked open the door.

Her hair was wild and her pajamas were askew. "What is it, Grandma? Are you okay?"

Marie pushed past her granddaughter, turning on the light as she entered. "I heard air in the gas pipes! Are you okay? They could start a fire! Didn't you hear them? They were rattling in _your _wall!" She stopped in the middle of the room to listen, but all she heard was quiet.

"It – it stopped." She looked around, but there was nothing amiss, although it was _very _cold in the room. "Did you hear it?"

Devon looked at her with wide eyes. "N – no."

"Are you _sure_? It was so _loud_, and regular, kind of like something hitting a – wall. I thought it was the pipes, but it –" she looked at Devon's bed. The sheets were half off, and the bed itself sat crookedly against the wall. "It sounded, come to think of it, like your bed _hitting_ the wall." She turned to her granddaughter. "Were you having a nightmare or something?"

Devon shook her head slowly, and Marie frowned at her. "What could it have been? I'm telling you – it _sounded _like – almost like your headboard hitting the wall. Why would your bed be banging against the wall?"

Realization dawned on her, and her jaw dropped. "Did you – were _you_..." She trailed off, and her hand covered her mouth. "Did you have a _boy_ in here?"

"What? No!"

"But it sounded just like –"

Devon interrupted her. "All right, Grandma! All right! I've been feeling lonely, and I – I may have been spending some _me time_." She threw her arms up in the air. "Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Marie blushed crimson, all the way down her neck and her arms. "Oh – oh, I – I didn't know. Excuse me." With a dip of her head, she shuffled from the room and closed the door behind her.

She was going back to bed, and she wasn't moving until the next morning.

* * *

Devon sank down on the bed, trembling. She just told her grandmother that she had been – masturbating. She lifted a shaking hand to her forehead. She had never, ever, ever, ever been so embarrassed in her entire life – and that was including the time her bathing suit strap broke during a swimming class in eighth grade.

She heard a soft rapping at the window.

_Nightwing_!

She ran to the window and lifted the glass.

Nightwing sat outside on a tree branch, his clothes in his arms, naked. "Can I come in?"

"Oh, shit. Sorry. Yes, of course." She took his things from him, and watched as he climbed back in the window.

He closed the window behind him, and stood there, his teeth rattling, his hands rubbing up and down his arms. "The condom fell off. It's on the ground, I think. I'm also pretty certain I experienced shrinkage."

She looked at him, and a smile came to her face. "Oh, my God. I had a _naked_ superhero outside my window."

He chuckled. "And I think you just told your grandmother you were pleasuring yourself."

Devon shook her head. "I _cannot_ believe she bought _that_! Since when do headboards bang against the wall when you masturbate?"

"She must have thought that you were _really _into it."

Devon started to laugh, and he put both hands on her mouth. "No laughing." He shook his head. "I _do not_ want her coming back. I _can't_ go back onto that tree! I think I scraped my testicles on the bark."

She nodded, and, controlling herself, she subdued her laughter, and he dropped his hands.

She let his clothing fall to the floor, and put her arms around his neck. "You want me to rub some ointment on those for you?"

He linked his arms around her hips, and leaned his forehead against hers. "Mm-hmm. And after you're done, you can rub something else for me."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

**November 8th **

Damian parked his cycle a block away from the diner, much like his brother, behind a dumpster. He was able to locate Nightwing's cycle with its GPS beacon, and, as he examined it, he shook his head. "Tt. _So _predictable."

He decided to walk the rest of the way to the diner instead of swing, and, as he came upon it, he crouched down to make himself less visible. The front of the diner was dark, the door was locked, and, looking in, he could see no lights within. He turned on his optics, and peered inside, but there was no movement.

He made his way around to the back of the building. There was a back door, which was locked, and a large cedar tree with branches that touched the upper floors of the building. Damian squinted at it. If Grayson was here, common sense dictated that he gained access on this side of the building. Withdrawing into the shadow of a nearby building. Damian checked the tracer. Yes, according to it, he was still here. Or, at least, his utility belt was still here.

He stepped out of the shadows, and shot a jumpline up to the building. On the roof, he investigated the masonry along the edges. He ran his fingers along it, and found a conspicuous hole – a hole about the right size for the grappling hook for the jumpline.

Grayson had been here, that much was certain, and, by the fairly new look of the gouges in the stone, recently.

Damian lowered himself to the ground again, and settled himself to wait.

He did not have to wait an excessively long time. After about an hour and a half, one of the windows on the third floor opened, and Nightwing emerged. He gave a little jump, and landed onto the tree.

Damian retreated farther into the shadows, and melted away into the darkness.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Late That Night **

**November 8th **

"So, really, Damian, you went _out_ for a Slurpee – at midnight on a _Thursday_?" Dick demanded of his brother.

The two of them were standing in the Batcave, Dick with his arms folded minatorily across his chest, and Damian calmly sipping a virulently colored slushie through a spoon straw. Their masks were off, but their uniforms still on.

"Thirst knows no time or calendar." Damian slurped loudly.

"What are you, a _damn _commercial?"

"Are you done? I need to shower."

"You _know _you shouldn't have gone by yourself."

Damian pointed an accusing finger at him. "_You_ abandoned me for _two _nights in a row, and I got tired of being left behind!"

"You told me that you didn't want to go out tonight!"

Damian opened his mouth and shut it. He had forgotten that lie. "Well, Colin – couldn't – play, and I was – bored." He sniffed.

"So you couldn't have _called_ me?"

"Would you have come back?"

"Of course! I love going out patrolling with you!"

"Liar! I wanted to go out with you, and you _weren't here_!"

Dick watched the play of emotions on Damian's face, anger and disappointment and the pain of betrayal. He sighed. "You're right, Dami. I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to – ditch you. I was supposed to take care of you, and I – didn't."

"Ha! _You _take care of _me_? That's a joke! I don't need you!"

"Yeah, well, I _need _you! Have you ever thought of that? I know that I haven't _shown _that this week, but I –" Dick sighed. "I do."

Damian's face softened. "Don't ditch me again."

"I won't. Can I – make it up to you?"

Damian shrugged. "We could play _Call of Duty_ together, I guess."

Dick grinned. "You're on."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Day**

**November 9th **

Bruce returned the next morning, for which both Dick and Damian were very grateful. Dick was grateful because he had learned that he was just not ready to be a parent, despite his love of his brother, and Damian was grateful because he had missed his father.

After class, Dick drove back to the manor.

"Hey, Bruce." Dick threw himself into a chair in front of his father's desk. "Boy, am I_ glad _you're back."

"Thank you, Dick. How was everything with Damian?"

Dick was surprised. "He didn't tell you?"

Bruce looked up from the paperwork on his desk only briefly. "He said it was relatively boring."

Dick shrugged. "A car prowl here, a gang fight there. You know, same old, same old."

Bruce nodded. "Good, good."

"So, how was Afghanistan?"

"Cold. Miserable." He looked at Dick somberly. "In every sense of the word."

"Find anything out?"

"The guns were stolen on their way to Kandahar. Weren't taken out of the country through any legal shipments – not they _would _have been shipped legally."

"Back to square one."

"Not exactly."

Dick's brows raised. "So you _did_ find something out?"

Bruce sat back, and steepled his fingers before him. "I saw Talia."

"And you lived to tell the tale."

"She's not behind it, Dick."

Only one shoulder went up this time. "If you say so."

"She gave me a lead, though."

"On the guns?"

"Yes."

"Should have known that _Talia _would know something about expensive sniper rifles going missing."

"Talia knows something about _a lot_ of things."

"I bet." At Bruce's sharp look, Dick cleared his throat and continued. "What did she tell you?"

"That a group funded by Lex Luthor had been interested in them when they were on the black market."

"How _exactly_ does she know this?"

"I don't ask, Dick, and she doesn't tell. It works better that way."

Dick compressed his lips. He didn't like that Bruce still had contact with Talia. Dick neither liked nor trusted Talia, and he never had.

"Whatever you say."

"Yes."

"So, we _may _have Luthor on our tail – _again_, or it may be someone else entirely." He thought on it. "Can you ask Clark if he knows anything?"

"I will, but, if it _is _Luthor, I don't know what his endgame is.":

"No one _ever _knows what Luthor's endgame is. I don't know if _he _knows what his endgame is."

"It seems pretty apparent that he doesn't want us dead. He wants us – distracted, maybe. But from what? And why wouldn't he just _kill _us? He's had opportunity, as you pointed out."

"Nothing's a bigger distraction than _death_, after all." Bruce looked thoughtful, and Dick continued. "Or maybe Luthor's not involved at all. At this point, after all, we only have Talia's word that Luthor _may _be involved."

"You're right." Bruce said, and Dick blinked. He was _right_? "We shouldn't allow one lead, which may be a red herring, to drive this investigation." He looked at Dick. "Thank you, Dick. You're always a help to me."

"I – I am?"

"Of course. And I'm – glad that Damian got to spend some time with you."

"Me, too." Dick smiled, although he was still feeling guilty for ditching Damian.

"So I guess you'll be going back home tonight."

"Yeah. My milk will probably be bad."

Bruce gave him a level look. "I'm sure."

Dick's brows drew down in confusion. "I'll just go say good-bye to Damian."

He found Damian sitting on the sofa, working on his laptop. "Whatcha doing, little D?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I am working on something that I am developing for Father."

"Sounds good. What is it?" Dick leaned over the back of the sofa, and Damian pointedly closed his laptop.

Apparently, the youngest Wayne was still a bit _peeved _about Dick ditching him three nights in a row. "What it _is _is something for Batman's eyes only."

Dick straightened. "Okay, then. I can take a hint."

"Good."

Dick perched on the arm of the sofa. "I thought that we had worked through this."

"_This _being the fact that you left me at home when we were supposed to be patrolling together?"

"Yeah. You didn't tell Bruce."

"Father cannot fight my battles for me."

"Is that was this is – a battle?" Dick's heart fell.

"I have forgiven you, if that's what you are asking. I have not forgotten, though."

"Ah."

"But this –" he indicated the laptop, "has nothing to do with that. It's – unfinished, and I don't want you to see it until it's complete."

Dick grinned. It was important to Damian, apparently, that Dick think well of him. "I get that." He touched Damian on the shoulder briefly. "I'll see you soon, baby bird."

Damian gave a brief nod, and did not even protest at Dick's pet name for him. "Undoubtedly."

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**That Night**

**November 9th **

Dick was glad to be back in his own apartment. Oh, he loved Wayne Manor – there was no doubt about that. He had grown up there, and he still considered it _home_, but he also always felt like a child there. After all, he slept in the same bed in the same room since he was nine years old. No matter how many times it had been redecorated, whenever he was in it, he felt fourteen years old again.

As he let himself in to his apartment, the first thing that he noticed was that the apartment smelled _good_. Italian food good.

_Jason must ordered Italian. Hope there's some left_. His stomach growled. He had left the manor before Alfred had served dinner, and he was now regretting that.

He heard the sound of a door opening, and Jason came out of the bathroom, naked, a towel wrapped around his neck. He smiled when he saw Dick. "Hey, Dickiebird! You've finally been paroled."

Dick chuckled. "It wasn't so bad."

"Did the runt behave?"

"More or less. I was the troublemaker."

Jason raised his brows and walked over to his backpack to pull out a pair of underwear. "Sorry, bro, I don't believe that."

Dick tossed his own backpack onto the floor. "I paid a _little _too much attention to my girlfriend and a little too _little _to my brother."

Jason walked over to the refrigerator and got himself a beer. He offered one to Dick, who declined. "Ho's before bro's?"

"Funny." He tried not to take Jason's words personally. His brother had always been crude, and he knew that Jason talked like that to enrage him. "Hey, you ordered Italian? Got any left?"

Jason threw himself on the sofa, and flipped on the television. "Ordered? No way, dude! I _made _it. Fettuccine Alfredo."

Dick was shocked. _Jason _cooking? "You're shitting me."

His brother looked hurt. "Why would you say that?"

Dick tried to backtrack. "I – I just didn't know that you cooked. That's all."

"Well, I do." Jason sniffed. "If you want to try it, there's some in the refrigerator."

"Hell, yes!" He walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic container.

"Put it in the microwave. It'll taste better." Jason advised.

Dick did as he was bade, and sat down at the kitchen counter to eat it. "Shit! This is delicious!"

Jason colored. "Thanks."

"No, man, I'm _serious_! This is _really _good. Restaurant good! Alfred good!"

"It _is _Alfred's recipe."

"Yeah, well, I have Alfred's recipe, too, and it never turns out like this." Dick was quickly devouring the plateful.

"Yeah, _well_, after you left, and it was just me and Bruce and Alfred, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen."

"Huh." Dick had never thought what Jason's life was like as the only child in the Wayne Manor. True, he himself had been the only child for a very long time, but his background was completely different from Jason's. _His _parents, John and Mary Grayson, were loving and doting, while Jason's parents were strung-out addicts and dealers. "Maybe you should think of leaving bodyguarding behind and become a chef."

"Nah." Jason stretched out. "I get too pissed sometimes to cook."

_Pissed _meant, in Jason's case, depressed. When his depression became serious, he usually lashed out, and became reckless. It was the one thing that Bruce had not been able to help him overcome, and it had led to Jason's final, fatal showdown with the Joker. Since his return, of course, his depression had become more severe.

"Hmm." Dick nodded through a mouthful of pasta. "Anytime you want to cook for me, I'm here for you."

"Selfless to the end, Dickie boy."

"That's me."

They watched a stand-up comedy show on television for a little while, until Jason stood and yawned. "Is it okay to kill the set? Morning comes mighty early."

Dick shook his head, and carried his long-empty plate to the sink. "I think I'm going to hit the shower and then go see her. But, shit, I'm tired." He yawned.

"She keeping you up all night, you lucky bastard?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Ha. Funny." He smiled at Dick's lame joke. "You're just lucky she lets you dip your wick every night."

Dick perched on the arm of the sofa as Jason made up his bed there. "I'm lucky in a lot of ways."

Jason gave him a lopsided smile. "You're in love with her."

Dick gave a deep sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Jason shook his head and settled down under the sheets. "You are well and truly screwed then, my brother. Because, if you tell her, she's probably going to hate you for making a fool out of her, and, if you don't, you have _no _future at all with her."

"I know. I am _completely_ screwed."


	27. Chapter 27

**Gotham City**

**Late That Night**

**November 9th **

Devon lay with her back pressed to Nightwing, his arms encircling her waist, and her right hand languidly stroking his forearm

Nightwing yawned, and she looked over her shoulder at him. "Tired?"

He nodded and yawned again. "You exhaust me, woman."

"Hmm. Good." She snuggled up closer to him, and his arms tightened.

"You must be tired, too. How much sleep do you get, anyway?" He kissed her shoulder.

She shrugged and tilted her head to allow him access to her neck. "Three hours, maybe."

"That's not good." His voice was muffled against her skin.

"No." She gave a small sound of contentment. "Probably not. Every night."

"Should I _not _come?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm fine. I sleep when I can. I sleep on the bus a lot."

"Is that safe?" He sucked on her ear lobe, and a frisson of sensation snaked down her back, causing her to shiver.

"Never been mugged yet." She managed to say.

"Have you ever missed your stop?"

She grinned. "Once or twice. How about you?"

"Superheroes tend _not _to use the bus."

She chuckled. "No place on your uniform for exact change?"

"I do have a utility belt."

"True. But how's your sleep?"

He shrugged, and he bent her earlobe forward to nuzzle her there. "I'm lucky. I don't have to get up as early as you."

"I'll survive. Anyway, I'll have some sleep time coming up."

He stilled. "Is that a hint?"

She laughed. "No. It's just that parts of me will be _unavailable_, for the most part, for about a week."

"What do you – oh." Realization dawned, and he blushed in the dark.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"So we won't be seeing much of each other, then?"

"Only if you want to cuddle. Or – you know, there _are _certain things that we can do."

"I like _certain things_."

"I thought that you might. But you could use that time to rid Gotham and Blüdhaven of crime. Or sleep."

"There's that hint again."

"No, it's not a hint. Really. This has been – _amazing_. I mean – it's been – like a honeymoon. But, you know, without the bother of a dress and reception and the – commitment."

He chuckled. "Skip the wedding and go right to the sex."

She nodded.

"Hmm. You might be right. I have been kind of – neglectful."

"I'm not complaining."

"Others might. I was supposed to go out with Robin this week, but I ditched him to come here for the past three nights."

"Ouch. Was he mad?"

Dick chuckled again. "Oh, yeah. Robin doesn't like anyone to – get the better of him. I even dumped him on Batgirl one night."

"I'm sorry that I'm such a bad influence."

He turned her around in his arms so that they faced each other. "I _like _to be influenced by sex."

She slid her arms around his neck. "In that case, can I _influence _you to take off your mask?"

He grinned. "Sorry. I think I need to stay a man of mystery."

"I think you're cross-eyed behind that mask." She teased.

"That would make it hard to swing between buildings."

"Which would explain all the scars on your body."

"It's true. They're all the results of scraping myself against masonry."

She touched his lips with her own. "Bad masonry. Daring to scar your perfect body."

He was pleased. "Do you really think I have a perfect body?"

She snuggled close to him. "Hmm. If I told you that you have a perfect body, would you hold it against me?"

He laughed. "How long have you been waiting to use that line?"

"Most of my life."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Evening**

**November 10th **

Devon squinted at a ripped stitch in her apron. She caught it on a doorknob yesterday during lunch service, and she was just getting a chance to sew it. Her grandmother had offered to do it for her, but the older woman's arthritis made intricate tasks like sewing difficult.

Luckily, it was Saturday, and since the diner was not open on the weekends, Devon hadn't needed the apron. She actually had two aprons, but the pockets in the other were very shallow, which made it sometimes impractical for work.

Saturday was also a week since her disastrous date with Dick, and also the week "anniversary" of her first time with Nightwing.

Just the thought of Nightwing caused Devon to color slightly. The things that they had done had been beyond her description. She had never had adventurous boyfriends before, but Nightwing had _more _than made up for her relative inexperience.

But what was even better than the sex were the moments that they shared afterwards, wrapped in each other's arms, as incipient sleep, exhaustion, or satisfaction loosened their inhibitions and tongues. They spoke of their feelings, and of small, inconsequential things that served to create them. She never spoke of her involvement with Larry, of course, and he never spoke of his true identity, but they learned things about each other that acquaintances, friends, and even family probably did not know. She spoke of school, and of her fears for the future, and what kind of a job she could expect after graduation – for her grandmother, who was getting older, and who would someday soon require more care than Devon would be able to provide. He spoke of his family, most of whom, she gathered, were not actually related to him, but who meant more to him than his own life. Of Batman, his beloved and respected mentor, who was everything to him. Of the Robins who had replaced him – who had become brothers to him. He spoke of a lifetime of missions and crime-fighting, always downplaying the danger. A lifetime of putting himself at risk.

A lifetime of putting himself at risk was something that she didn't want to think about. It wasn't something that she wanted for him.

She put her needle down. _What she wanted for him_? What the hell was _that_? Who was she to even _think_ about what _he _should or shouldn't be doing with his life? _This thing you have with him is temporary, Devon_, she thought. _This is just about __**sex. **__Not a lifetime. You are __**not **__his girlfriend. Keep that in mind._

She sighed. But what if she wanted to be? What if she wanted this to be more than just sex?

_Well, tough shit_. _**You** are not to get involved with anyone emotionally right now. Remember that. You're **not **normal, no matter how much you want to be. Besides, what would happen if you found out his real identity? Wouldn't Larry just **love** that? He'd have Nightwing at his mercy!_

No, there was no way that she could be his girlfriend – for the same reason that she couldn't be Dick's girlfriend. And, of course, had she gotten involved with Dick, she wouldn't have become entangled with Nightwing. And being entangled with Nightwing was something that she would _never _regret. His almost nightly visits had become the highlight of her life.

A text alert interrupted her reverie, and she swiped her screen to bring it up.

_**Got a job for you**_**.**

Devon's pulse jumped. No! Not again!

Still, knowing that _not _responding would not make Larry go away, she texted back reluctantly. _What is it_?

_**You'll find out when you need to. Third and Broome in one hour.**_

She sighed. Third and Broome was at least a 25 block-walk, and easily forty five minutes.

Damn it! If she was going to get there in time, she would have to leave – now!

She threw the apron aside and stood. "Grandma, I've got to go. Just got a text from Larry."

Her grandmother looked concerned. "Oh, dear." She followed Devon from the room. "You will be careful, won't you?"

Devon gave the older woman a brief look. "Well, I'm not going to be reckless, that's for sure." At the woman's hurt face, Devon smiled. "I'll be fine, Grandma. I'm careful. Really."

Her grandmother watched anxiously as Devon changed into all black clothing. "Don't forget your jacket."

Devon shook her head. "Not this time. Last time I was _freezing _the whole night_." _ She made certain that her window was shut and locked, and that the curtains were drawn. It would not be a good idea if Nightwing let himself in and was waiting for her!

She pulled out the gun from beneath the floorboards in her bedroom, and put everything for it in a backpack. In her jacket pockets, she put the stun gun, the handgun she had taken from the warehouse, and a flashlight. She put a small pocket knife into the top of her boot, and she donned the ski mask, wearing it like a cap.

When she was ready, she squeezed her grandmother's shoulders and then gave her a hug. "Don't wait up."

"How can I sleep?" Worry was etched on Marie's face.

"At least go sit and watch TV. I'll be fine." She said again, and gave her grandmother a kiss.

The old woman nodded, and Devon walked her to her easy chair in the living room, sliding on gloves as she walked.

Once she had seen her settled with the television on, she let herself out of the building, and, with a quick look into the cedar tree, was gone into the night.

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**Earlier That Evening**

Dick was just suiting up in the private garage below his apartment when his comm went off. He touched the device in his ear, and heard Bruce's voice.

"Nightwing."

"Present, Daddy Bats." Dick smiled as he imagined Bruce's sour expression.

There was a long silence, and Dick's smile turned into a chuckle.

"I wanted to find out if you'd like to climb the old Wayne Tower with Robin and me."

Dick stopped in the process of drawing on his gloves, and his blood ran cold. "The old Wayne Tower?" It had been less than a week since his ill-fated attempt with Damian.

"Yes. Robin told me that you took him there this week."

Dick held one hand to his head. He knew that Damian had wanted to tell Bruce himself about the incident, but Dick wasn't sure that he wanted to discuss this over the comm, especially since he considered it his fault. And he _surely _did not want to climb the tower again! "Yeah, I – did."

"He also told me what happened."

"He – he did?"

"He said that he didn't listen to you, and that he foolishly put himself and you in danger."

Dick knew that it was time to tell the truth. "It was my fault. He wasn't ready. I shouldn't have taken him."

"He's old enough, Dick." Bruce rarely used real names on the comm, so his use of Dick's given name was surprising. "He's just – impatient and rash." There was a pause, and he continued. "And that's what climbing the tower is supposed to do. Teach him patience and judgment."

Dick sighed with relief. Bruce wasn't mad.

His father wasn't finished, however. "Climbing the tower with you is among my fondest memories of our time together. And I don't want _your _memories tarnished by throwing up over the railing."

Dick gave a sheepish smile. "He told you about that, did he?"

"Yes. So we'll erase the memory of that night – that is, if you're available."

Dick looked at the clock on the wall. It might take them almost all night to climb the tower, which would probably mean that he wouldn't get to see Devon. It was their week anniversary, and he had planned something _special _for her. He had thought to take her out on the jumpline to the top of one of the buildings and make love to her under the stars – provided it wasn't raining. It was sure to be cold, of course, but he could keep her warm.

But opportunities like this did not come along often.

"Of course I'm available. Do you want to meet at the tower?"

"Yes. By eleven?"

"I'll be there." He disconnected the call and finished pulling on his gloves. He would see Devon tomorrow night. After all, who said that what he had planned could only be on their _anniversary –_ which, to be honest, was not much of an anniversary at all. It wasn't like he was her _boyfriend_, anyway.

He climbed onto his motorcycle and was soon on his way to Gotham City. As he exited the freeway, he wondered if he had time to swing by Devon's. He wouldn't _stop –_ he would just see if the window was open.

He eased off the accelerator and drove through her alley. The window was closed and dark. Hmm, maybe she was tired. She certainly needed the sleep.

With a sigh, he left her building behind, and drove to Wayne Tower, at the corner of Finger and Broome Streets. Although Union Station lay beneath the building, at this time of the evening, the tourists and most of the employees were gone, and the surrounding area was relatively deserted.

Dick parked behind some tall bushes that he often used as cover, and, after engaging the cycle's security, he began looking for his father and brother.

His comm buzzed, and he touched his ear. "I'm here."

"I know. Seventh floor observation deck."

"See you soon." Dick broke into a run, and, without slowing, shot a jumpline into the building. He launched himself into that air at the same moment, and was drawn up to the seventh floor.

Batman and Robin were waiting for him, and Batman nodded approvingly. "You are still the greatest I've ever seen on the wire, Nightwing."

Dick's smile was ridiculously huge. "Thanks."

Robin crossed his arms over his chest truculently. "As long as you don't mind cleaning up puddles of _vomit _once he lands."

Dick was not insulted. "Better puddles of vomit than puddles of _Robin_."

"You two aren't going to argue all night, are you?" Batman asked ominously.

Both his sons were saved from answering by a large explosion to the west of them.

Dick looked briefly to Batman, who had already gone into action. "It looks to be several blocks over. Nightwing, approach from the south. Robin and I will go to the north." He launched a jumpline, knowing, without waiting, that Dick would follow his orders.

Dick delayed launching his own line until Damian had followed their father.

It seemed as if climbing Wayne Tower would have to wait.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Earlier That Night**

**November 10th **

Devon ran the last seven blocks, and by the time she arrived at the intersection, she was winded. As she reached the corner of Third and Broome, a text came in.

_**Gotham Life Building. Roof. Key card in discarded drink cup in alley. Keep face covered.**_

That meant that they had gotten access to the building, but not to the security cameras. _Guards_? She typed.

_**Temporarily incapacitated.**_

She shook her head. Well, at least they weren't dead. She found the building with no problem, and, as she ran into the alley, she pulled the ski mask down.

She saw the drink cup immediately – one discarded from a fast food restaurant.

With fingers clumsy from nerves and bulky from the gloves, she fumbled for the key, but, finally, with it in her hand, she swiped it at the utility access door into the building.

All of the lights on the keypad turned green, and she pulled the door open.

_**Up the stairs to the roof**_**.**

Why couldn't she _ever _use the elevator?

Thirty seven flights later, and she emerged out onto the roof, so winded that she could barely push open the heavy door.

Another text came in. _**Southern corner. Gotham Financial Building.**_

The Gotham Financial Building was two buildings over. She went to the edge of the roof, and could see the sidewalk in front of the building.

_**Set up your equipment.**_

_Equipment _being the gun, she was certain. She did as she was ordered, and fixed the gun sight on the sidewalk at the corner.

_**Time for target practice.**_

What? She re-read the message, and was about to text back for a clarification when the answer came.

_**Box on the sidewalk.**_

She settled herself at the gun, and looked through the scope. She saw it – a box the size of a medium-sized microwave oven.

_**There's an X on the side. Think you can hit it**_**?**

_No puppies or anything like that inside?_

_**Nothing alive.**_

She frowned at the wording. She didn't like it, but, she felt she had no choice.

She set up the shot, and, with a deep breath and a prayer heavenward that this wouldn't all blow up in her face, she pulled the trigger.

The box exploded in a huge fireball, and Devon's jaw dropped. It was a bomb. She caused a bomb to detonate.

"Larry, you bastard." She snarled.

She started to pack away the gun, but a text arrived.

_**You're not done yet, little girl. Still got the main part of the job.**_

Devon gnashed her teeth. _Shit_!

_**You'll only have a small window. When you see Batman, put one close to his head.**_

"_Shit." _She said it aloud this time. How could she do this? How could she do this _again_? Nightwing would _never _forgive her if he found out!

She made a slow sweep of the area, expecting Batman to come into view, and _hoping_ that Nightwing would not be with his mentor.

A minute or two passed, and she thought she saw movement at the end of the block. She swiveled the gun towards it.

She heard the crunch of a boot on gravel too late, and felt the intense pain of something striking her on the side of her head.

She fell forward, and the gun slid away from her.

She shook her head as she felt herself hauled by her arm to her feet.

_Fight_! Her mind screamed at her. _Fight! _

"You know you _really _aren't going to be able to fight for a couple of minutes until your head clears." She knew that voice! She turned dazed eyes to her attacker.

Her lover stared back at her, an almost _amused _look on his face. "You've caused me _a lot _of problems."

Her head spinning, she knew a moment of stupefaction, and she swung out with her free arm, but it was caught easily, and he shoved her away. She stumbled back a step and sank to her knees.

"You shot me in the deltoid. It hurt like _hell_."

Devon's head cleared. _Shot him_? _I didn't **shoot **him!_

He put his hand up to touch the communicator in his ear, and she stretched out a hand for the rifle. Grabbing it by the barrel, she swung it desperately towards him, and he had to jump back to avoid being hit by the butt of the gun.

"Enough." He said. "You almost killed _three _people I love, not _including _me!" He jerked the gun out of her hand, and in one smooth movement, he spun her around and had her back against his chest, his forearm across her throat.

In a state of complete panic, she started clawing at his arm, feeling blackness at the edge of her vision. His hand grazed her breast, and his grip eased momentarily before tightening again. _Think, Devon, think! You have ten seconds or – so. You – can – do – this. _Her thought processes were slowing, and she knew that she had very little time left. _You – still – have – your – mask – on. He – hasn't – seen – your – face_.

With her last coherent thought, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the stun gun. With a speed she didn't think possible in her weakened state, she reached over her shoulder and discharged it against him.

She felt him jerk several times as the electricity passed into him, and he slumped backwards, nearly bringing her down on top of him. She dropped the weapon and held onto his arm, and, turning, lowered his body to the ground.

She bent over him, breathing raggedly. "Shit." He was unconscious, but alive. Thank God. Wow. She didn't realize that a stun gun could be that powerful. She touched his cheek briefly, and noticed two angry red wounds directly beneath his chin. "Damn it." A pit of self-disgust formed inside her.

"I'm sorry, love." She whispered. What should she do? She looked around her. Batman might be here any second, looking for his former Robin. She hated leaving him here, but she had to disappear. Despite that, though, she took time to settle his limbs comfortably. She wasn't going to leave him all twisted. Her hands strayed for a moment to his mask, but, despite the fact that part of her wanted to remove it from his eyes, she had already betrayed him too much, and she left it intact.

She quickly gathered up all her equipment and shoved it into the backpack, and, in under a minute, she was headed down the stairs.

She wanted to pray for his safety and her own safe passage home, but she wondered if she had a right to ask for either of those.

_Let him be okay_, she finally decided upon. _Please, God, just let him be okay._

* * *

**Author's Notes**: I did a lot of research on stun guns, tasers, etc., and found that there is a new technology that can actually render someone unconscious. Of course, it's being developed by the US military for use in the field. I figure that Batman and his wiliest enemies probably already have the tech. I also figured that the only way Devon could go up against Nightwing at all was by cheating. She really didn't stand a chance otherwise.


	28. Chapter 28

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

**November 10th **

"Nightwing! Nightwing, wake _up_!"

The words from Damian came into Dick's brain little by little. Images followed. A gun, a masked assailant. Then, pain. An excruciating pain that was almost indescribable in its intensity.

_The assassin_!

Dick came back to consciousness all at once, and he was on his feet, lurching around, fumbling for his escrima sticks. "The assassin!" He mumbled, his words slurred. His eyes searched desperately for his attacker. He had to protect Bruce and Damian – his family.

Strong hands took hold of him. "Nightwing." Bruce's voice, strong and calm, penetrated the fog.

Dick looked at him, dazed.

"The assassin is gone. What happened?" He lowered Dick to a sitting position.

Dick looked up at his father, and then at Damian, who, on his knees next to his older brother, was all concern, his normally pugnacious face twisted in anxiety.

Dick grabbed Damian's shoulder clumsily. "You're okay."

"We're _all _fine." He heard Bruce's voice from far away, and Dick swung towards him. "What happened?"

Dick shook his head in confusion. It ached like _hell_. _Everything _ached like hell. "I – I don't know. I – I found the sniper – with the gun." He reached up to grab at Bruce's arm. "It was a _woman_."

Bruce frowned. "Did you see her face?"

Dick shook his head. "No. She tried to hit me with the butt of the gun, and I grabbed her, and when I tried to subdue her – she had _breasts_."

"What happened then? Was there someone else?"

"I – I don't know. I don't think so. She had a – stun gun." He touched the underside of his chin, where two painful burns were. "A damn _powerful _stun gun."

"It was probably a nano-second electrical pulse, like the ones we use. Wayne Tech makes them for the military."

"Another indication, Father, that this assassin is well-funded or connected." Damian deduced.

Dick rotated one of his arms, trying to stretch out the seized muscles. "Well, tell Lucius they work."

"Tell him yourself." Bruce helped Dick to his feet. "Did you hit your head?"

"I – I don't know." He looked around him, and could hear sirens and see police lights flashing on the street below. "What happened to the bomb?"

Bruce looked at the scene briefly. "A small bomb. Did only minor damage. No injuries that I saw."

Dick nodded. "Good."

Bruce turned to Damian. "Robin, take him back to the car and evaluate him for a concussion, and then drive him to the cave. I need to gather evidence on the bomb."

Damian brightened immediately. "I get to drive the Batmobile?"

"Don't get into any accidents. I think Nightwing has had enough excitement for one night."

"Yes, Father."

Batman turned to Dick. "We'll talk later. Get some rest."

He nodded and they watched Batman jump off the building.

Damian turned to Nightwing. "Can you walk?" He asked, solicitously.

Dick nodded, and put a hand to his temple. "Have you ever been tased?"

Damian shook his head.

"Good. Avoid it if you can."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

**November 10th **

Devon had never been so desperate to get home. She ran the entire way, even though, at times, she wanted to collapse on the ground – her abdomen was cramping and her head hurt like _hell_. She remembered the story of Pheidippides, who ran all the way from Marathon to Athens to announce that the Greeks had won the Battle of Marathon before dying of exhaustion.

She did not intend on dying tonight, though.

She thought she heard the text alert on her phone go off, but she ignored it. She had to concentrate on getting home. Her head and neck continued to throb. Nightwing was _really _strong! In spite of the pain, and the fact that she had been on the receiving end of his blow, she had to feel just a little bit proud of his strength and abilities. In fact, had she not had the stun gun, she would have lost to him – without a doubt. He was _very _well trained. She almost wished that she could compliment him on his prowess in battle. Oh, well, she would just have to compliment him on his _other _talents.

She turned the corner to her own street, and a rush of relief flooded her. Once incside, the first thing she did was hide all of her weapons away under the floorboards of her room, and then, taking clean clothes with her, she dragged herself to the bathroom to shower.

Her grandmother came to the door. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, Grandma. Peachy." She closed the door on the old woman, and slowly stripped her shirt and bra off and lifted her hair to peer at her neck. There was a massive, red welt where Nightwing had struck her with the escrima stick. There was sure to be a bruise there tomorrow. How would she explain _that_ to him?

She sighed. At least she wouldn't have to deal with it tonight. There was no way that he would recover enough to feel up to visiting her.

She pulled off the rest of her clothes, and discovered why she had had such severe abdominal cramps on the way home.

Well, at least she wasn't pregnant. That would please Nightwing. It pleased her, too. The last thing she needed was to get knocked up by a superhero – an anonymous superhero.

And it might buy her a couple of more nights to heal.

She stepped into the shower and allowed the warm water to run over her until it started to turn cold.

Once out, she looked in the mirror again. Yep, there was a bruise forming. Damn strong, sexy Nightwing!

She dressed in pajamas and crawled into bed, intending to pass out. As she was attaching her phone to its charger, she noticed the texts she had missed. They were all from Larry.

_**What the hell is going on?**_

_**Good girl. I didn't know you had it in you. **_

_**Take off his mask and get a picture so we can ID him.**_

_**What the hell? Look at your damn texts!**_

_**Where are you going? I didn't tell you to GO!**_

_**You need to go back. You're not finished.**_

_**You're obviously not looking at your texts. **_

_**I'm not happy with you.**_

_**We WILL talk soon.**_

Devon sighed and erased them all.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

Damian helped Dick to the Batmobile, and with a knowledge of driving far exceeding his ten years, he had Nightwing safely away from scene in a matter of minutes. Once several blocks away, he pulled over in a parking lot, and, anxious that his brother might be injured, ripped the mask from Dick's eyes with excess force.

"Ow!" Dick protested. "Leave some of my damn eyebrows on my face, please!"

Damian grasped his chin and shined a flashlight into his eyes. They were equal and reactive to light.

"I don't have a concussion, Dami." Dick gave a small smile.

"No names in the field."

"Well, no _faces _in the field, either."

He flung Dick's head away, satisfied that he was fine. "You don't have a concussion."

"I told you that. Now let's get back to Bruce."

"Father said to take you home to Pennyworth."

"What can Alfred do? I'm fine."

Damian put the car into gear. "Nevertheless, we are going home."

The drive, thanks to Damian's leaden foot, took very little time, and Dick found himself hustled onto the "minor wounds table" in the Batcave.

"Dear, dear, Master Dick. These burns do look nasty." Alfred examined the raw welts carefully.

"Just a couple little marks, Alfred," he shrugged, ignoring the fact that such an action hurt his aching shoulders. "I'm ready to go back out."

"Hmm." Alfred was unconvinced, and put some topical ointment on them. "How unfortunate that your assailant was able to make contact with the only portion of your body not covered by your uniform."

"Yeah," Dick murmured. "Unfortunate." Lucky break on the assassin's part, that was certain!

"Maybe you should get your face insulated against electrical attacks." Damian piped in.

"Maybe I should cover my entire face with a cowl." Dick smiled wanly.

"I assume it hurt quite terribly?" Alfred asked.

"Until I passed out."

"Yes,of course. Quite. Could you hold your arm out, please, Master Richard?"

Dick did as he was commanded, but, when he attempted to lower it a few seconds later, Alfred insisted that he keep it raised.

"Why?" Dick asked. His muscles were screaming.

"One moment, please." As if on demand, Dick's arm started quivering.

"Ah, yes, I thought so." He began examining Dick's arms and legs, as well as his back. The muscles were bunched and tightened.

Dick was self-conscious. "_Ah _what, Alfred?"

"Your muscles are still spasming from the electric shock. I suggest you not patrol until they have recovered."

"What?! How long?"

"Two or three days, perhaps."

"Two or three days? Alfred, I'm fine! Look, I'll take the rest of the night off, but, tomorrow night, I'm going out."

Alfred gave him a stern look. "You'll do nothing of the sort, young man! Do you _want _to fall to your death because your muscles failed?"

"They won't fail."

"Please _do_ allow yourself to heal, Master Dick! You already put yourself at so much risk when you are 100% that to do so while you are _not_ at your best is foolhardy!"

Dick looked at the concern on the old man's face, and then to Damian, who looked uncertain. He sighed. "Fine. I'll stay in tonight."

"And tomorrow."

Dick looked irked, but Alfred would not relent. "Some anti-inflammatory drugs might do well here." Alfred shook pills out of a bottle and gave them to Dick, who took them obediently.

Dick sighed. "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed."

"That would probably be best."

"Father wanted to talk to you about the sniper." Damian reminded him.

Dick waved a hand. "If he wants me, he knows were to find me. In the room next to yours."

He limped from the cave and to the manor, and, after a long shower, fell into bed. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and his sleep was deep and dreamless.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

**November 11th **

Dick awoke with a headache and muscles that complained mightily when he tried to sit up. He groaned and rubbed his face wearily. He felt like he had not slept at all, although he knew full well that he had slept through the night. He got up slowly, scratching his belly idly as he walked to his bureau. He pulled out a pair of underwear and slid them on. He followed those with a pair of sweat pants, and, barefoot, left his room and headed for the kitchen.

As he passed through the family room, he was stopped by a voice.

"I knew, if I hung around long enough, I'd see one of you without a shirt. I _was _hoping it would be Bruce, though." Selina Kyle unfolded herself from the sofa.

Dick gave a small jump. "Good morning, Selina."

Selina Kyle was the most classically beautiful woman that Dick had ever seen, and, every time that he saw her, he understood more and more why Bruce found her so irresistible. Snapping, intelligent green eyes, short black hair that emphasized her willowy neck, and legs that never seemed to end – she was peerless in her beauty. However, Dick had never felt comfortable with her, and, despite her beauty, he had always avoided her company.

Dressed now in a tight black mini-dress and impossibly high black heels, she walked towards him. "Hmm. Morning was over hours ago, Dick. It's nearly three."

Dick's brows rose in surprise. He had slept eleven hours. "Where's Bruce?"

She circled Dick, surveying him. "Oh, he's around...somewhere."

"Why are you here?"

"Mm, those etiquette lessons from Alfred didn't _take_, I see."

Dick continued on his way to the kitchen, and Selina followed.

"Bruce invited me for lunch. You know, Dick, you _really _have grown up to be a _man _wonder."

Dick sighed. "Can we _not _do this now, Selina?"

She leaned on the counter as Dick pulled out milk and cereal. "Rough night?"

"You could say that." He retrieved a spoon and bowl.

"Bruce told me about your – encounter."

Dick, on a hunch, reached out and turned Selina's chin to the left with one finger. He would have certainly left behind a bruise on the neck of his assailant. Selina's neck was unmarred.

She looked at him with a knowing smile. "Satisfied?"

He did not answer, but chewed his breakfast.

"Ah, Dick, you're up. Good." Bruce came into the kitchen.

Selina smiled as he dragged a hand along her arm and around the back of her neck in a show of intimacy.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce continued.

"Headache. Muscle aches. Otherwise, fine."

"Alfred tells me that there was no evidence of concussion."

"I'm fine."

"You're still taking a few nights off."

Although Dick wanted to protest, he did not want to do so in front of Selina, which may have been Bruce's intention.

"Where are Damian and Alfred?"

"Alfred, I believe, is out shopping. Damian is training." He turned to Selina. "I'll be ready soon. I just want to talk with Dick for a bit."

"Of course." She turned the full power of her smile on Bruce, and Dick seethed. Her ability to manipulate men through the use of sex was legendary, and, although Bruce was quite cognizant of that, he frequently allowed himself to be swayed by her.

Bruce indicated the Dick should follow him to his study, and Dick drank the remainder of the milk out of his bowl before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and, giving Selina a wary look, left the kitchen.

Selina's eyes followed him, thinking how much like a cat Dick Grayson could be sometimes.

* * *

Dick lowered himself into the chair in front of Bruce's desk gingerly, which did not escape Bruce.

"Still sore?"

Dick nodded. "How did the evidence gathering go last night?"

Bruce shrugged. "I recovered what I could. A few bits of cardboard, some metal scraps."

"What was it?"

"Surveillance footage shows a small delivery truck with no plates dumping it about fifteen minutes before the explosion. It was a cardboard box with what seemed to be a gas can inside."

"Easily detonated with a gunshot."

"Yes."

Dick sighed and looked out the window onto the grounds. "We won't get any clues from that."

"Probably not. My guess is that it was detonated with the express purpose of luring us there."

"To take another shot at us." Dick was silent. "But which one of _us_?" He frowned, thinking. "I'm the only one who's been at all three scenes."

"I thought of that, but, at the jewelry store, Damian and I were the targets. You were on the other side of the car, out of the line of fire."

Dick shook his head. He _hated _this. He was used to people trying to kill him, and his family, face to face. But these sniper attacks unnerved him. "And how did she know where we were?" The question popped into Dick's head suddenly.

Bruce opened his desk drawer and retrieved something, which he put on the desk in front of his son. It was one of their comm devices. "It's yours. The one you were wearing last night."

Dick took it. "So?"

"It was destroyed when you were stunned."

Dick was puzzled. "And?"

"This is the second comm you've had in the past two months."

"Are you lecturing me on taking better care of my _toys,_ Bruce?"

"No. You lost the last one in the sewer, and we never recovered it."

Realization dawned on Dick. "You think someone found it and hacked the frequency."

"I'm having _everyone's _comm rewired for a more secure link."

Dick felt like shit. He had inadvertently put his family in danger. "Bruce. I'm sorry."

Bruce held up a hand. "It was my fault. I should have thought of that. It's going to be standard procedure from now on – whenever one of the comms is compromised, we replace the whole system. It's a good policy."

Dick nodded, and Bruce watched him for a long moment before speaking. "Dick, do you know why Selina is here?"

"Sex?"

Bruce's face was expressionless, although Dick thought that he detected a bit of redness in his father's face. "You told Damian that you hit the sniper on the side of the neck with your escrima stick."

"And you thought it was possible that it might have been Selina."

"I know that _you _thought it was possible. And I wanted to be certain."

"It wasn't her. The sniper will have a bruise, at _least_."

"No, it wasn't her."

"Could she have hired someone?"

"That's not her way. She does her own dirty work." He sighed. "Look, Dick, I know that you all think that I'm blind to Selina's faults..."

"You turn a blind eye to what she does."

"Loathe the actions, not the woman."

"That's a new one for you." Dick pointed out dryly.

"She's not irredeemable, Dick."

"I know. You're right. I just – don't trust her."

"Neither do I. But she isn't involved."

No. I suppose not." Dick thought on it for a moment. "So it's not Talia and it's not Selina, but it _is_ a woman."

"The list of female assassins is, fortunately, short. And who do you usually think of at the top of that list?"

"Cheshire."

"Yes."

Dick shook his head. "Jade's beyond trying to kill Roy's friends."

"She's well connected with that world, though. You think you might be able to get her to talk?"

"_Jade_? You think that _I _can get Jade to talk? You overestimate her affection for me."

"What about Roy?"

Dick shrugged sadly. "I can try – to talk to him. He and Jade are having – problems."

"It's worth a try. If you'll do it."

"Yeah, I will. Of course I will."

"Good. But whoever _she _is – she's _not_ trying to kill us. She left you _alive_, Dick. Why?"

Dick shook his head. He had been trying to puzzle it out. The assassin, whoever she was, had the perfect opportunity to kill him last night, and had not. She hadn't even unmasked him. Why? "Orders, maybe."

Bruce looked thoughtful. "Maybe. But _who_ is giving the order?"

Dick shrugged, and put his feet up on the chair beneath him. "That's the big question. Along with me wondering when you, me, and Damian are going to finish climbing Wayne Tower."

Bruce gave him a severe look. "When you've recovered sufficiently."

Dick stretched out one arm. "I'm good for tonight."

"I already told you that you're taking a few nights off. I've also arranged for a massage therapist to come by later."

Dick grinned. "A hot chick massage therapist?"

Bruce gave him an odd look. "You sound like Jason."

Dick blushed, mindful of the promise that he had made to Jason. "Just kidding."

Bruce stood. "I'm taking Selina for cocktails and then a movie. Just in case you were thinking of going out, I've left Damian with _strict _instructions that you are not to leave here tonight. So just get your massage, eat a good dinner, and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

Dick saluted. "Yes, boss."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Earlier That Day**

Devon was not as lucky as Dick to sleep eleven hours, although she did sleep nine, waking up a bit after ten A.M. on Sunday morning. However, since she, unlike Dick, had not been electrically shocked into unconsciousness, she did not need the healing sleep nearly as much.

She awoke to the aroma of breakfast cooking, and, for a moment, was transported back to a time before Larry had come back into her life, when her world consisted of simple things like studying and working instead of sniper rifles and stun guns.

Nightwing hadn't come by last night, and, of course, she hadn't expected him to. He had probably gone home to wherever he lived and rested. At least, she hoped he had. Of course he had. Nothing had happened to him. He was fine.

Wasn't he?

She sighed and sat up. Shit. Now she was going to worry about him until she saw him again.

When would that be? Tonight, perhaps? Although she wanted, _desperately_, to see him, she also knew that she couldn't – not while she had a massive bruise on her neck. He would _know_, immediately, where she had gotten it, and then it would be over. _Everything _would be over.

So, as much as she hated it, she was going to keep her window closed and locked for the foreseeable future.

Her life sucked!

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Afternoon**

**November 11th**

After Bruce and Selina left the house, Dick wandered back to his bedroom – to an alert on his phone going off. He picked it up and looked at it.

Wally's birthday! Shit!

Dick ran a hand through his hair. He had forgotten. Of course, he had been _unconscious _most of the day, but, still, he _should_ have remembered! _And_ he hadn't gotten Wally a present! What kind of a best friend was _he_?

Dick pulled up the Amazon mobile site on his phone, and quickly sent a $150 giftcard to his friend. It wasn't the most _thoughtful _present, but it was the most practical. Wally could buy almost anything he wanted from Amazon. Quick and easy.

He pulled up Wally's contact on the phone and called him.

It was answered on the fourth ring.

"Birthday central!" Wally's jovial voice came on the line.

"I guess you know why I'm calling, then." Dick smiled.

"To tell me that I am the greatest friend ever in the history of the world and that you are lucky to have me."

"You took the words right out of my mouth, Dude. Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Dick." Wally's voice softened. "I appreciate it."

"You _really _are the best friend I've ever had. And I _am _lucky to have you."

"Right back at ya. You coming over? Artemis has made the _most _delicious burgers that I have ever had."

Dick gave a wistful sigh. "Dude, I'd like to – _love _to, but I don't think I can drive."

Concern came into Wally's voice. "Dude! What happened?"

"I got tased last night. And Alfred said I can't drive because of residual muscle tremors."

"Shit, Dick! Tased! That _sucks_!"

"Yeah, tell me. Don't ever get tased."

"One rarely gets tased in retirement, I've found. _Luckily_."

"Something to be said for retirement, then."

"One of several things that can be said for retirement."

Dick chuckled. "Did you get my present?"

"Was it the stripper?"

"_What_? You got a stripper? No fair! I wasn't there!"

Wally laughed. "Just yanking your chain. No stripper. Unless you count Artemis." Dick could hear Artemis in the background shout "_Wally_!" in an outraged voice. "Okay, okay!" Wally was laughing louder now. "No stripper! No stripper!"

Dick waited until his friend had stopped laughing to continue. "I did _not_ get you a stripper, but, who knows? You can get a lot of stuff through Amazon."

"Hey, you got me an Amazon giftcard? You're the best! I was just looking at a barbecue grill on there. Since we have a balcony and all, you know."

"That sounds great. Check your e-mail."

"I will. Thanks."

"I wish I could come over."

"No big deal. It's just a day. We'll get together next weekend."

"Yeah, let's do that. Maybe you'll have a new barbecue by then."

"Maybe. Hey, give that back!" There was a commotion, and Wally dropped his phone. He retrieved it quickly, however, and came back on the line. "Sorry, Dick. Brucely just stole the end of my burger. Smart dog."

Dick smiled again. It was so good to have Wally in his life. "I love you, Wally. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know it. I love you, too, buddy."

"Take care. Have a giant piece of birthday cake for me."

"Already taken care of. Homemade."

"That sounds great. I'll – see you soon."

"Not if I see you first."

Dick laughed. "Give Arty a kiss for me."

"Not if she knows you called her _Arty_."

"Don't tell her, then."

"I won't. See you soon."

"Yeah. I will. Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Dick. Feel better."

Wally clicked off, amid shouts to the dog, and Dick gave a small, sad smile.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

"Come on, Dami. _You_ know I'm fine."

Damian looked up from his playing cards to glare at his brother. "I promised Father that you would not go out tonight. Got any two's?"

"Go fish."

Damian picked a card from the top of the deck. "Ha! Got it!" He triumphantly showed the two of diamonds to his brother. "I get another turn."

"Yes, you do." Dick had decided to teach Damian the simple joys of _Go Fish_, and luckily, Damian was competitive enough that he agreed readily. He then proceeded to decimate Dick in two consecutive games, and was currently beating him in a third. "Are you sure you've never played this game before?"

Damian gave a sniff. "Of course not. This is a peasant game."

"Well, you seem to be doing really well at this _peasant _game."

"Of course. My _superior _intellect makes this child's play."

"Whatever. Play, child."

Damian looked at his cards. "Do you have any seven's?"

Dick shook his head. "Go fish."

Damian drew from the common deck, and grimaced at the card that he had drawn. "Your turn."

"Finally!" Dick held his hands out in mock praise.

"I can't help it if I picked _three _cards in a row from the deck."

Dick shrugged. "You're just a lucky little Wayne." He looked through his own cards slowly. "Did you know that Bruce and I used to play this on stakeouts?"

Damian shook his head. "No. When we're on stakeouts, I generally read comics on my phone."

"Tsk. Tsk. Kids nowadays."

Damian watched as Dick shuffled his cards, and bit his lip. "D – do you think that Father would play with me if I asked him?"

Dick gave him a brief look, trying to subdue the smile that was threatening. "Not if he knows how ruthless you are."

"Tt." Damian waved a hand. "Father is not afraid of competition."

Dick was only listening with half an ear, trying to decide if he should ask Damian for a queen or a three. "No, he is _not_. Got any queens?" Damian reluctantly handed over a queen, and Dick smiled. "Come here, lovely lady."

He looked over his cards again while Damian watched him speculatively. "You know, Grayson, you are favoring your left arm."

Dick tried to look casual. "Oh yeah? How can you tell?"

Damian shrugged. "You try to hold your cards with both hands, but sometimes you put your left arm down and keep all of your cards in your right hand."

Dick sighed. Damn perspicacious little bat! "I'm all right."

"You know," Damian said nonchalantly, "Father was very worried about you last night."

Dick looked at him sharply. "That's odd. Bruce said that _you _were worried about me." Bruce had actually said nothing about Damian's reaction, but Dick was interested.

To his surprise, Damian lowered his cards, face down, of course. "When I saw you lying there, Grayson, I was – frightened that – that the assassin had succeeded."

Dick's face slackened in shock. Damian had actually been scared – and was _admitting _it! "Oh, Dami," he said softly, "you know it takes a hell of a lot more than one girl assassin to take me out."

Damian picked his cards back up and shuffled them nervously. "I – I don't want anything to happen to you. Or to Father."

Dick grinned suddenly, and pulled his little brother into a fierce hug. "We're strong and stubborn, Damian. It would take wild horses to drag us from you."

Damian allowed himself to be hugged for about five seconds before pushing Dick away. "Get off! You're knocking the deck over!"

Dick smiled, and sat back. "Sorry. Just my peasant mawkishness." He watched as Damian smoothed his hair. "Got any four's?"

"Go fish, peasant."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

**November 12th **

Devon's alarm rang at five A.M., and she smacked it silent, sat up groggily and looked around the room. Shit. It was Monday. Time to get up and start the day.

As she dragged herself from bed, she vowed that, when she graduated, she was going to get a job that did not require her to get up before eight. She would sleep until eight every day, and not rise until the sun had beaten her to it.

She went through her ablutions and dressed in her uniform, and peered at the bruise in the mirror. It had turned an ugly blue and yellow, and stretched from her hairline to her the top of her back and shoulder. Luckily, it was no longer as painful to the touch as it had been, but her neck still ached, and it still hurt to turn her head.

She wondered how Nightwing had fared – she suspected that he was as sore as she, but for a different reason. She remembered the jerking of his muscles, and she grimaced. She can't believe that she had tased her boyfriend! Well, not _boyfriend _so much as – what was he, exactly? Nocturnal partner? That was as good a term as any, and better than others that she had heard.

She unlocked the door to the diner downstairs, and stepped through. She walked through the kitchen to turn on the overhead lights, and she hit the switch, but nothing happened. She frowned, and flipped it a few more times. What was wrong with it? Probably a power breaker.

She sighed. She would have to go down to the basement and check on the problem. She _hated _the basement. It reminded her too much of horror movies. Screwing up her courage, she walked towards the basement door, but stopped. Maybe she should run back up to her room and get the handgun from beneath the floorboards.

_Don't be ridiculous, Devon_! _This is **not **a horror movie. You'll be fine._

She started for the door again. _I wish Nightwing were here. He'd make me feel safe. Among other things._

She silently made her way through the kitchen, her senses tuned to the slightest sound. She thought she heard the sound of a soft footstep behind her, and swung at it with her arm.

Her wrist was caught in a firm grasp and twisted behind her back. With a cry of pain, she was forced to her knees and she could feel the sharp edge of a shin biting into her back.

"Good morning."

She gave a grunt of frustration, and tried to throw her assailant off, but he just chuckled and leaned down to her ear. "Aren't you going to say _good morning, Uncle Larry_?"

"No."

He gave a low, menacing laugh, and turned down the collar of her uniform to expose the bruise she had received in the fight. "Look at this. A little souvenir from Nightwing?"

"What do you want?" She said between clenched teeth.

He ignored her question. "Have you forgotten your training?"

"My training? _You _cut me loose at 15! I haven't had any training in _six years!"_

"You took ten years of martial arts."

"Yeah, well, if you don't use it, you lose it. Now what do you want?"

"That little chat I mentioned." He removed the weight of his knee from her back and released her arm, and she straightened.

He was leaning against the counter when she stood. "I got into a lot of trouble over you."

Devon wanted to say '_good_,' but refrained. She stood and straightened her uniform. "What did you want me to do? You said I _didn't _have to kill anyone."

"You could have unmasked him."

"I didn't know _that_ was the mission. _You _said it was to scare him. And, anyway, Batman was on his way! I can't take on Batman! It was just dumb luck that I beat Nightwing!"

He grabbed her arm, and, for the second time in as many weeks, she was afraid of him. "Luck has little to do with it, girl. It's all about _effort_. You _wanted _to get out of that situation, and, with a little _effort_, you did. And I don't see you putting a lot of that into your _other_ mission."

"I'm trying my best."

"I don't think that you are. How can I _encourage _you to do better, hmm? Because I know _hurting_ you won't make any difference. Although, of course, I wouldn't mind trying that." His hand continued to squeeze her arm, and, although the pain was excruciating, she did not flinch.

"Better find another way, then." She said, her face stoic.

He released her suddenly. "I think that I will." He walked over to the stairs and peered up into the darkness there. "Grandma tells me that she thinks you're keeping secrets from her." He turned back to Devon. "You know, if she's no good as your handler, we really have no use for her – at all."

At this, Devon's pupils constricted, and she was silent.

He smiled. "I _knew_ that I could find something that would inspire you to excel. You're to concentrate on that. You're off the sniper job for now."

She felt a sense of relief. "Good. Why?" She was wary.

"Technical difficulties. Don't worry – it won't be a long hiatus." He gave a parody of a smile. "How close _are _you to accomplishing your goal?"

Her heart rate increased and she looked away. "He really isn't interested."

"Not interested in _you_? Are you losing your touch?"

"He – he has a girlfriend."

"Oh, yes. His _girlfriend_. She's not up to your standards. You can bring him around."

"I – I don't know."

"Tsk. Too bad. Oh, well. Your grandmother is _such_ an old woman. Anything might happen to her. Fall down the stairs. Heart attack. Stroke."

Her face paled. "I need more time."

"You're out of time. We gave you an extra _month_, and still you weren't able to bring him in."

"You know where he lives, where he works. You know his real name. Why do _I _have to deliver him?"

He patted her cheek in a falsely avuncular way, but she neither flinched nor pulled away. "They won't give you another chance." He walked to the door of the diner. "You have until the end of the semester. I think that's generous, don't you?"

Devon didn't realize that she was holding her breath until she heard the lock click as Larry let himself out, and, then, she sank to the floor and put her head in her hands.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I bet you want to know what Devon's other mission is. Ha! Well, tough potatoes! I'm not telling!

The scene at the beginning of the chapter when Dick woke up and immediately launched into action, trying to protect Bruce and Damian, was inspired by the scene in "Casino Royale," when Bond was resuscitated by Vesper after being poisoned, and his VERY first thought was to make certain she was okay. I'm pretty certain that Dick would be the same way. Wake up. Save his family. Recover.

Also, in case I never mentioned this, Damian refers to Dick as a "peasant" because Dick, in the comics canon, has Romani (commonly, and incorrectly, known as "gypsy") roots. Damian considers himself superior to Dick [although, let's be honest, Damian considers himself to be better than everyone except Bruce, his mother (Talia), and grandfather (Ra's Al Ghul)].

Also, I hope that you enjoy knowing that Damian reads comics on his phone while he's on stakeout. I'm not sure which comics he would read, though, so give me suggestions, and I'll have him "gush" about one of those comics in an upcoming chapter.

Also, it was just coincidence that this chapter included Wally's birthday. With what happened in the Young Justice finale, I know that we're all feeling the pain! Wally, like Damian, will be alive in this fic, although I have decided that Wally was brought back through some circumstance - or, who knows, maybe he was just sucked into another dimension by the Reach's MFD, and found his way back!

Please review!


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Notes: ** Bonus chapter! I had over 1400 hits yesterday, so the luck of the Irish must have been with me! To celebrate, I'm giving you a bonus chapter!I hope that you enjoy it!

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**That Night**

**November 12th **

"I can't believe you got knocked out by a girl with a taser." Jason chuckled as he chopped some vegetables for the stir-fry that he was making for dinner.

"Yeah, go ahead, laugh. You ever get tased?"

"Beaten half to death with a crowbar."

"You win." Dick grabbed a piece of broccoli before it went into the wok.

"Don't I always? Hey, you want chicken or beef with this?"

Dick shrugged. "Both?"

"Greedy."

"Maybe a little."

"Speaking of you being greedy, how's your girlfriend?" He began slicing the meats.

"Haven't seen her since Friday."

"Tired of her already?"

"Nah, dude. I couldn't climb the tree."

Jason laughed and shook his head. "You should have pole vaulted."

"I almost can."

"Don't brag." He threw the meat in the wok, and the sound of sizzling filled the air.

"I haven't had any complaints."

"I bet."

"Well, I'm back on the job tonight, so I'm going to set aside some time to see her. Damn, that smells good!"

"Wait until you taste it."

"I can't wait."

"You know, it's a really simple dish, Dickie. Everybody can make it."

"I'm not everybody."

"Come on. I've seen the stuff you've got in this kitchen. A food processor. A stand mixer. A caramelizing torch." He added some seasoning to the pan.

"Dude, I use that to toast marshmallows."

Jason laughed again, and Dick grinned in response. He was really enjoying this time with Jason – his brother had been carefree and lighthearted – more like the Jason he remembered than the Jason that his brother had become.

"Well, you know, if you learned to cook, you wouldn't have to eat so much take-out."

"I'm not complaining about eating take-out."

Jason shook his head in mock disgust. "Your loss." He slid the stir-fry onto two plates, and handed one to Dick, along with chopsticks.

"Well, who needs take-out when I have my own live-in chef?"

"Well, you may not have me for long."

Dick stopped with the chopsticks half way to his mouth. "Wha?"

Jason nodded as he chewed. "Got two paychecks under my belt. Might be able to get my own place."

Dick slowly chewed. "Oh, that's good." He said around broccoli.

"Thanks." Jason beamed.

"But, Dude, moving out so soon? I mean, I'm super glad that you're doing well, and all, but – you're my _roomie_!"

Jason chuckled. "We all need our space. In case you ever get the balls to tell your girlfriend who you are, you might need your apartment back."

"I go to her place. It's all good."

"Yeah, but what about when _I _want to bring someone home?"

Dick looked speculative. There was no real answer to that.

"It's okay, Dickiebird. We can still hang."

"Yeah, I guess. Will you cook?"

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

Devon looked in her drawers at her pajamas and touched the tender spot on her neck where the bruise that Nightwing had given her still bloomed. She really wanted to see him tonight – she _needed _to see him, to make sure that he was well – that he had suffered no ill aftereffects from the electric shock.

But if she left her window open and he came in, how could she hide her neck?

_Well, first of all, you're assuming he's **well** enough to climb into your window. _Crap! That was true. What if he was _really _hurt by the stun gun?

_Secondly, you're forgetting that he can't have access to your happy spots_. Yeah, there's that, too.

Still, she was going to leave her window open. But how could she hide the bruise?

She pulled out a turtleneck. _Really? A turtleneck? _

She shrugged. _Whatever works._

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

Dick slid into Devon's room through the open window and landed silently on the floor.

The climb through the tree had not been too difficult, although swinging through the city had been a little harder than usual, thanks to complaining, stiff muscles.

Still, he had made it to her window alive. And, to be with her, he would brave discomfort – and a hell of a lot more.

He dropped his gloves, removed the wrist computer and comm and laid them on her bedside table, and crouched next to her.

"Devon. Love? Wake up, Beautiful."

She stirred, turned over, and smiled at him sleepily. "You're back." She touched his cheek.

He turned his mouth into her hand and kissed her palm. "Miss me?"

She nodded, and sat up. "More than you know." She touched her lips to his, and she was in his arms and across his lap, his erection pushing up at her.

She did not ask him where he had been – she knew, of course, but it seemed hypocritical to ask and pretend not to know.

For his part, he did not volunteer any information about the attack – he did not want to worry her.

He ran his hands up her back, and set her away from him. "_Turtleneck_?"

She smiled sheepishly. "It gets cold leaving my window open."

He chuckled and slid his hand beneath. "I'll keep you warm."

She grasped his hands and stilled him.

"What's wrong?" He frowned.

"Uh, well, it's – well, remember, how I told you that I would be – _unavailable_ for a week or so?"

Dick's brows drew down behind the mask, until comprehension dawned. "Oh, that's – now."

She nodded. "Yeah. I'm afraid it's a _no-fly zone_ tonight."

He was disappointed – _very _disappointed. "Oh. Oh, well. That's okay. Of course that's okay. But," his hands snaked beneath her blouse again, "_everything's _not off-limits, is it?"

She gently grabbed his fingers. "Ah, well, as to that, those areas are really – tender."

"Oh." He removed his hands.

She leaned towards him, a seductive smile on her face. "Doesn't mean that it's a wasted visit, though." Her hand cupped him; he gave a low growl, and she teased the corner of his mouth with her lips. "Now just lie back, and _relax_. I'll take care of everything."

* * *

They lay together afterwards, her head pillowed on his chest.

"I feel weird." Dick whispered.

"That's not usually the outcome."

"No, not that. That – _that _was perfect. I just feel – strange – like we should take off more clothing." He had removed only the lower half of his uniform, and now he looked at his arms, still covered by his uniform top. Devon was still fully clothed, in the turtleneck and sleep pants.

"Good idea. Take off your shirt. I can objectify you more easily that way." He sat up, and she stripped him naked. "Much better."

"I aim to please." He settled down with his arm around her again. "As do you."

"Glad you liked it."

He grinned at her. "What's not to like?"

"True." She kissed him, and he tasted himself on her.

"But you're still wearing too much clothing." He noted.

"And I will continue to."

"Hmm. I don't like this time of the month."

"Me neither. It stinks."

"When will it be over?"

"Probably Friday." Her bruises should be sufficiently healed by then.

"Shit. It's only Monday."

"I know." She sounded as disappointed as he.

"I _do_ have to tell you, though," he said, "that your breasts look _amazing_ in that turtleneck. They look so _big_."

"Are you saying that they look small and uninteresting _otherwise_?"

"What? No! Of course not! No! Shit. I'm shutting up now."

She gave a low laugh. "It's okay. I'm just giving you a hard time."

"Ha. Did you hear what you just said? You gave me a hard time."

"Oh, wow. Now I sound like you."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean you sometimes speak without thinking, that's all. Which is really weird for a man who has to keep _big _secrets."

"I'm unguarded with those close to me. I guess you're close to me now."

She blinked, experiencing a moment of deja vu. "Close in _some_ ways, true." She noted wryly.

He was quiet for several seconds. "You know why I can't tell you who I am."

"I know. I'm not trying to get you to. I don't mean to – dog you about it. It's _your _secret, and I – I agreed to this."

"Devon." He turned to her and set her back from him. "It's not _just_ a secret. And it's not just _my _secret." He sighed. "Look, this is something we've never talked about, and, honestly, it's something I've been avoiding _thinking_ about. I'm – not safe."

Her heart leapt painfully within her chest. Did he _know_? "Wh – what do you mean?"

"I mean that – there's a target on Nightwing. On _me_. There always has been, from the second I put on the mask. And it's dangerous to be _with_ me."

She breathed a silent sigh of relief, and snuggled back into him. "Oh. _That_."

"What do you mean, '_oh, that_?' It's a big deal!" He slid his arm around her again.

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm not scared. Really, I'm not."

"You should be."

"So now you're trying to scare me off? Is this your way of dumping me?" She pulled away this time.

He looked at her. "What? No, don't be silly. That is _seriously _the last thing on my mind. I just – worry about you. This kind of life – you don't know how to handle it. And, hell, just my being here, with you, like this, puts you in danger."

She smiled, and pulled him close for another kiss. "Don't worry. I'm not completely defenseless, you know. I know how to swing a mean skillet." _And shoot a gun_, she thought.

"Still, I think I'll keep you as far away from this life as I can."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

**November 13th **

Dick got a text the next morning as he walked into the Wayne Enterprises building. Although Tuesday was not usually his day to come into the office, he had missed the day before, and he wanted to make it up.

_**Hey, Wonder Hunk. **_

It was Barbara. She always liked to riff him on his title of _Boy Wonder_, but, in a text, she could not call him what she called him in person.

_Hey yourself, Gorgeous._ He wondered if he was being too flirty. No – Barbara appreciated witty repartee.

_**Buy you lunch today?**_

_Sure, but I'm buying YOU lunch, remember?_

_**Nope. It's on me. Got good news. As long as we don't go somewhere Bruce would take you to lunch. Too much $$**_

_Not my style. You pick._

_**Wally told me about a nice place. Good burgers.**_

_Yeah, sure. My first class isn't until 1. I get off at Wayne at 11. Pick you up?_

_**Nope. That's part of my good news.**_

_Color me intrigued._

_**WTH?**_

_Yeah, that sounded cheesy to me, too. Meet you outside WE at 11?_

_**Sounds good.**_

Dick slid his phone into his pocket. Barbara seemed happy, and he wondered what her good news was. He hoped that, whatever it was, it would be good enough to make her forget that he ditched her and Damian last week.

His eyes widened. What he did for love. Ditched his friends and lied to his family.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Morning**

Dick was looking for Barbara's car, a late model burgundy Honda Accord, as he stood outside Wayne Enterprises, when a new silver Accord pulled up to the curb. "Hey, Handsome, looking for a ride?"

Dick grinned at the redhead behind the wheel. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, I was taught not to talk to strangers."

Barbara looked up at him coquettishly. "Even one who's seen you naked?"

At that, two older women walking by glared at Barbara, and she colored. Dick chuckled and shook his head.

"Impeccable timing, Babs."

"Just get in the car."

Dick ran his hand over the roof of the car reverently. "Babs, is this what I think it is?"

She dimpled. "A brand, spanking new car? Yes. Yes, it is."

Dick opened the door and got in. The new car smell enveloped him, and he breathed deep. "Nice."

Barbara grinned. "Thanks."

"Is it really yours?"

"Gift from my dad."

"Wow." Dick's eyes widened. "What's the occasion?"

Her smile widened. "Got into Columbia."

He ran both hands through his hair. "Oh, my God! _Barbara_! That is _effing awesome_!"

He had never seen her so happy. "I know. I'm moving to _New York City_!"

Even as Dick was rejoicing for Barbara, and rejoicing that he felt so comfortable with her again, he was also lamenting the fact that, for the first time since he was a kid, she wouldn't be around all the time.

Still, there was no way that he was going to ruin the mood. He gave her a warm hug. "I am so happy for you."

She smiled at him as he pulled away. "And, _strangely enough_, I was given a Wayne Foundation scholarship for the pursuit of library sciences."

Dick gave a knowing smile. "_Weird_. I didn't even know the Wayne Foundation _had _a library sciences scholarship."

"It _is_ _**very**_lucky for me."

Dick squeezed her forearm. "You deserve it, Babs. You deserve it _all_."

"Thanks, Dick."

They were silent for a long time, smiling at each other, and Dick was reminded again why he had fallen in love with her.

Dick shook his head mentally. "Let's go to lunch."

She snapped out of her reverie and nodded firmly. "Yeah. Let's eat too much and have dessert."

"Sounds good."

Barbara pulled into traffic, and she and Dick spent the next several minutes chatting about the features of her new car and about her moving to New York City.

"I'm probably going to live in university housing." Barbara replied when Dick asked.

"With a roommate?"

Barbara grimaced. "Probably. Which means that I'll probably be giving up the cowl. Just like you guys."

"He told you, huh?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Of course, Bruce said that he would support me if I wanted to continue on, and I do want to, I _really _do, but," she shrugged, "I don't want to die as Batgirl. And going to Columbia seems to be, you know, a _natural_ time to make the change."

"Yeah." Dick nodded somberly.

"What about you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes I think that there's no way, and sometimes – I don't know – I think it might be – possible." He smiled lopsidedly.

"The only constant in life is change."

"Yeah. I guess." They smiled at each other, in perfect understanding. "You know, Babs, this is nice. I missed this. You know, _talking,_ with no drama."

"Yeah, you were kind of a drama queen."

"Yeah, I kinda was." Dick acknowledged the truth. "And, look," he scratched his neck. "About the other night. I'm really sorry for ditching –"

Barbara held up a hand. "No. It's okay. Really. I've gotten over it. Just don't expect me to patrol with you and Damian any time soon." She gave a devilish smile.

Dick chuckled. "Fair enough."

"Oh, hey, we're here." Barbara slid into a parking spot on the curb – in front of The Fifth Street Diner – Devon's diner!

Dick did what was, to Barbara, a very humorous double take. "Here? We're going _here_?"

She smiled. "Wally said it's a really kitschy place. Very old school diner."

_Thanks, Wally_! "B – but you sure you wouldn't want to go – s – somewhere else? Look, my treat! Really! I'll take you to – to the Occidental Grill." The Occidental Grill was one of the most expensive restaurants in the city.

She gave a confused half-smile. "What's wrong, Dick? Don't you like this place? Have you been here before?"

"Um, no. I mean – _yeah_! Yeah, I've been here. It – it's good." _Shit_.

"O – okay. Look. We can go somewhere else – if you want."

Dick smiled wanly. "N – no. It's okay. This place is – fine." He climbed out of the car with a huge sigh. What the hell was he going to do _now_? There were _so _many reasons this could go wrong. One, Devon had told him, Dick, not to come back to the diner. Two, he was coming with a _girl_ – and not just any girl, but _Barbara_ – his ex-girlfriend, but also one of the smartest, most astute people that he had ever known. Could he _possibly_ keep his feelings for Devon secret from her? And what, exactly, would Devon say to all of this?

He thanked his lucky stars that Devon did _not _know that Dick and Nightwing were the same person. Because, if she saw the man that she had been sleeping with walk through the door with someone who looked like Barbara, well, then, she'd probably _flip_! He knew that he would if he saw her with someone who looked, for example, like Hal Jordan.

The thought disturbed him mightily.

"Oh." Barbara sniffed the air. "It smells great! God, I'm _dying _for a good burger."

Dick wondered if he could feign a headache or nausea or something in the next thirty seconds.

_Coward_! His mind chastised him.

_Yeah, I'm a coward_. _No disagreement there_.

But, still, he had to put on a good show – for Devon _and_ for Barbara.

He reluctantly opened the door for Babs, and she preceded him in.

He wondered if this was how people during the French Revolution felt on the way to the guillotine.

* * *

Devon delivered the plates to the table with a smile, asked the customers if they needed anything else, and returned behind the counter. This was her second day back to work after the incident with Nightwing, and, although her neck was still stiff, she was feeling much better.

The bruise was still visible, so she was wearing her hair down and had covered the marks with thick make-up. It passed muster with her grandmother, so she hoped that no one at the diner would notice anything odd. Not that anyone would know what it meant, but she didn't need any awkward questions.

She was put more coffee into the coffeemaker when George, the cook, caught her attention through the pass window. "Hey. Hey, Devon. Isn't that your boyfriend who just came in? Oh. Never mind." He disappeared beneath the level of the window, and, confused, Devon turned to the door.

She felt all the color drain from her face. Dick Grayson stood by the door, chatting with – a beautiful red-haired woman.

Feelings of panic, annoyance, and jealousy all warred within her, and she narrowed her eyes and walked over to the newcomers, a tight smile on her face.

"Table or booth?" She asked, looking daggers at Dick, who smiled back.

"Booth, if you have one." The redhead smiled, and Devon, snatching two menus from the stack, obediently walked them to a booth.

As they settled down, she handed them the menus. "The special is a jalapeño pepper-jack burger with fries and chipotle mayo dipping sauce, and corn chowder is the soup of the day."

Dick's toothy, beautiful smile made her want to take the menu from his hands and smack him across the face. "Thanks, Devon."

"No problem." She said between clenched teeth. "Can I get you two something to drink?"

"Oh. Coffee, please." The red-haired witch said.

"Diet, please."

"Sure thing." Devon's smile was more like a snarl, and she left, her back straight and stiff.

* * *

As Devon left them at the table, Barbara looked at Dick quizzically. "Do you _know _her?"

Dick shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah. Well, I've eaten here a couple of times, and she goes to G.U. And she knows Wally."

"Oh." Barbara was surprised. "I guess that's why he recommended this place."

"It _does _have good food." He shrugged, trying to be casual.

"Did the waitress seem a little – _surly_ to you?"

_Surly is not the word to use. **Pissed **would be the word. _Dick thought. _Wait, **why **is she pissed_? _Because I'm here? **Really**? Or is it something else?_

He shook his head innocently. "No."

* * *

Devon walked behind the counter to pour the redhead a cup of coffee.

"Pssst. Psst. Devon." George hailed her, and she came close to the window.

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry about your boyfriend."

Her face became mottled. "_He's not my boyfriend_."

George's brows raised. "Well, obviously not now."

She ignored his comment and filled a glass with ice for Dick. Her hand hesitated at the soda fountain, and she chose regular soda. Let him get fat.

She stared at him and the redhead girl, and hated them both for a moment. _Wait. Why am I so angry about him coming here with a girl? I turned __**him**__ down. And, anyway, it's not __**her **__fault. It's his! I asked him __**not **__to come here! But why do I care? He's __**obviously **__got another woman now – which is good for me. Isn't it?_

She brought the drinks back to the table and set them down in front of them. "Can I take your order?"

The redhead nodded. "Um, I think I'll have the classic burger with no mayo. Medium, please. And fries."

"Sure." Devon tried to smile at her, and took the proffered menu. She turned to Dick, who was sipping his drink. His eyes were on her, and she stared back at him belligerently, her lips a thin line. "Are you ready?"

"Uh, yeah, but I think this drink isn't diet." He held out the glass to her, but she did not take it.

"No, it is." She didn't know why she was being so hard-headed.

When she didn't take the glass, he belatedly sat it down. "It _really _doesn't taste like it."

"No. I made sure. Are you ready to order?"

His eyes narrowed. She was playing dirty. "Sure. I'd like the pancake combo –" He began, but she interrupted him.

"Sorry. We're not serving breakfast now."

He pointed at the menu. "It says here that you serve breakfast all day."

Her eyes hooded. "Must be an old menu."

"Okay, then. I'll have the special. Medium-rare with fries, please."

"Fine" She ripped the menu from his hand and flounced off.

She went to the pass window and put in Dick and his girlfriend's order, making certain to add extra jalapeños to his burger. She didn't know why she was being like this. Maybe it was because of her hormones. Stupid hormones! Stupid, sexy Dick Grayson! Why did he have to come back and bring a beautiful redhead with him? Why did she care? She was with Nightwing! She didn't want Dick – oh, God, she still _wanted_ Dick! What the _hell_ was wrong with her? Since when was she _this_ sex-crazed?

* * *

Dick watched Devon as she did her job, torn between being angry and being flattered. She was _jealous_! She was jealous of Barbara! He was flattered, and smiled. She did feel something for him – for _Dick_!

Barbara watched her as well. "You sure you don't know her better than you're saying? Because she does _not_ seem to like you."

He shrugged insouciantly. "Can't understand why. You know how charming I am."

"I know that _something _is going on."

"Barbara, I can honestly tell you that, I, Dick Grayson, am not involved with anyone right now." _I, Nightwing, am, but whatever._

She gave him a skeptical look. "Well, I would say, if you _are _involved with her, that she is _mad _at you."

"Maybe it's just her time of the month." Which he knew, for a fact, was true.

Barbara glared at him. "That is _the _most sexist thing you've said – this week."

He blushed. "Sorry. Look, we're here to talk about _you_."

"I thought we were here to talk about you."

They laughed. "Whichever. Tell me _everything _about Columbia. I am _so _excited for you. Are you scared about moving?"

She wrapped her hands around her cup. "You know I don't scare easily."

"You're scared."

"Terrified." She admitted. "I mean, _New York City_! The most exciting city in the world! And I don't know a lot of people there. All right – I think I know, like, two people there."

"Babs, you'll be fine. You make friends easily."

She goggled at him. "I'm sorry. Do you _not _remember middle school?" She had transferred to Gotham Academy in middle school on scholarship, and had had trouble fitting in with the wealthy students there. Dick, in fact, had been her first friend, and she still considered him her best friend. And now she was moving out of town, and she would probably only see him occasionally – especially if they gave up being Bats.

"You're not that girl anymore. You're smart and beautiful and _incredible_." He grabbed her hand impulsively.

"And I wasn't _before_?"

"Shit. Talking to women is _impossible_ sometimes."

"Yeah. Not sexist at all."

Just then, Devon returned with their meals, and Dick pulled his hand from Barbara's almost guiltily. Devon set Dick's meal in front of him with a thunk, although she was gentler with Barbara's.

"More coffee?" Devon asked.

"Please." Barbara smiled and Devon returned with the pot while Dick examined his burger.

"It looks great." Dick smiled at her. He had decided to torture Devon.

She didn't smile at him. "Let me know if there's anything you need." Saying that, she took the coffee pot and was gone.

Dick bit into his burger, and chewed experimentally. It was very – tasty. And _hot_! Very, very hot! His eyes widened, and he gratefully drank some of his soda.

Devon passed by with meals for another table, and, after she passed, Babs gesticulated wildly at Devon. "Dick!" She hissed. "There were _pancakes _on those plates! They _are _still serving breakfast!"

Dick shook his head, but, thanks to the heat in his throat, did not answer. He downed the rest of the soda and reached for his glass of water.

Devon came past, and Dick waved frantically at her. She stopped, and looked at him coolly. He pointed at his glass repeatedly.

"Oh, do you need a _refill_?" She asked, as if a refill were as exotic as a unicorn.

He nodded, and she disappeared, taking his glass with her. He slumped in relief, and took the top bun off his burger. At least a dozen and a half jalapeño slices littered the top of the burger, and Barbara stared at them.

"Shit. That's _a lot _of jalapeños."

Dick finally found his voice. "Yes." He croaked.

"Send it back, Dick. Really. That's _too _many."

He shook his head, and began picking the jalapeños from the cheese that covered the meat. "'S okay."

After making a pile of peppers on his plate, he resumed eating the burger. Devon might have set his throat on fire, but she wasn't going to get the best of him.

However, the jalapeño _essence _remained on the burger, and Dick went through the rest of his glass of water and Barbara's before looking at the small cream pitcher.

"Dairy will kill the pepper fire, right?" He asked, his voice a whisper.

"Dick! Stop being so _stubborn_ and send it back! I don't know why this waitress is so _lousy_, and why you don't want to say _boo_ to her, but –"

Dick grabbed the cream pitcher and emptied it in one gulp, effectively silencing Barbara.

He gave a long, satisfied sigh. "I'm okay. The burger is – good. Is yours good?"

Babs looked at him and nodded slowly, her eyes huge.

Still, Devon had a little bit of explaining to do. She was _obviously _jealous, and, although that pleased Dick, it angered him, too. Wasn't he – Nightwing – enough for her? She _still _wanted him – as Dick? _She _was the one who had told him to leave her alone, and he had done that – except, of course, at night, when he climbed into her window! But it _wasn't _him who was climbing in her window – it was _Nightwing –_ who, of course, was _him_.

Damn. He was confusing himself!

He saw Devon disappear down the hall that led to the restrooms. "You know, I'm going to the little boys' room."

Barbara was watching him with alarm. "O – kay. Have – fun."

He nodded, and jumped up. As he turned the corner into the hallway, Devon was coming back towards the dining room. She glared at him, and tried to push past him, but his arm on the wall blocked her.

"Hey, Devon. How have you been?"

She crossed her arms and turned to him. "_Dick_." Her voice was frosty. "I was _really _surprised to see you when you walked in. You know, after I asked you _not _to come here anymore."

"Believe it or not, it wasn't my choice to come here."

"Oh, your _girlfriend _chose this place _all by herself_?"

He grinned. "You _are _jealous."

Her face took on a look of disgust. "Don't be ridiculous! I _dumped _you!"

That got Dick's hackles up. "_Dumped_? You didn't _dump _me! We weren't even dating!"

"Are you denying that _I_ told you that I didn't want to see you?"

"No. I'm denying that you _dumped_ me!"

She gave an aggravated sigh. "Look, I have to get back to work. I'm happy for you, _really_." She didn't sound happy. "I'm glad that you've – _moved on_."

His hand against the wall fisted, and she stole a quick glance at it. He leaned into her, the color in his face heightening. "_I haven't_." He growled. "Have you?" With that, he turned and left her in the hallway, gaping after him.

He subdued his inexplicable anger, and returned to the table with a smile. "Hey, Babs. Finished?"

She wiped her mouth and nodded. "Yeah."

He looked at the detritus of his burger. "Me, too. Let's go get ice cream. My mouth is still kind of on fire." He pulled out his wallet.

She protested, reaching for her purse. "This is my treat!"

He shook his head. "Nope. I got it." He pulled two twenty dollar bills from his wallet, and threw them down.

"Dick, the bill has _got _to be less than twenty dollars. That's more than a one hundred percent tip. She's a _really _bad waitress. She didn't even bring you a refill on your drink."

He gave her a half-smile. "It's okay. I'm feeling generous." _And it will be sure to piss her off even more!_

* * *

Devon watched as he left the diner with the redhead. Why did she have such a reaction to Dick coming to the diner with a girl?

It wasn't because she still liked Dick. She couldn't! She was happy – _very _happy with Nightwing. He gave her companionship when she wanted it; he was _funny_, he didn't put _any _pressure on her, and the sex was _incredible_!

She went to their table, and seeing the two twenty dollar bills there, she snatched them up angrily. Hard-headed _jerk_! He _knew _that these big tips made her uncomfortable.

And he didn't care. He was _such_ a jerk! So, why, when she was confronted by Dick in the hallway, did she have an almost _overpowering _desire to pull him to her and kiss him?


	30. Chapter 30

**Gotham City**

**Later That Day**

**November 13, 2018**

Devon tried to concentrate on the textbook on her lap as the bus shivered and bumped over the potholes on the way to Gotham University, but having little success.

She had been unable to concentrate on anything since Dick had left the diner – after he had told her that, despite appearances to the contrary, he hadn't moved on – he still wanted her.

That should have alarmed her, but it hadn't. What it actually did was make her realize that she still wanted him, too. Despite all that she was feeling with Nightwing, she still felt _drawn _to Dick. She wanted him as much as she had before. This was bad. Very bad. She had thought that all she felt for Dick was lust – a physical need, and that she had satisfied that with Nightwing. She should have felt only a _mild _attraction, if that, for Dick.

So why did she picture herself in his arms? Had she fallen in love with him? And, if she had, why was she carrying on with Nightwing? Was it just the physical relationship? Or something more? She loved talking with Nightwing, laughing, teasing, sharing _small _pieces of their lives, even if it was, in so many ways, superficial – after all, he hadn't even shown her his eyes! Was she, perhaps, falling in love with _Nightwing_? If so, _that _was very bad. He was a superhero, for pity's sake! A superhero she had shot at, fought with, stunned into unconsciousness – and banged. Several times. Bordering on _dozens_ of times.

Shit.

Still, the reasons why she couldn't be with Dick hadn't gone away, nor had the reasons why someone like Nightwing fit so perfectly into her life – _if you ignore the whole __**trying to kill him**__ thing_, she told herself wryly.

She groaned and put her head back to stare at the ugly, plastic bus ceiling. What the hell was she doing? What was she _thinking_?

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**Later That Afternoon**

Dick kicked off his shoes as he settled down on his sofa. It was not yet dinner time, and Jason wasn't home yet.

Dick knew that he would go out patrolling in Blüdhaven later. He had been ignoring the city for several weeks, and, according to information he had gotten from hacking into the Blüdhaven Police Department computers,violent crime was spiking.

There was never a dull moment. Assassins in Gotham, muggings in Blüdhaven.

That reminded him that he had not gotten in touch with Roy, as he had promised Bruce, so he took out his phone and called up his friend's contact to text him.

_Hey, buddy. How's it going?_

A couple of minutes later, there was a response.

_**Good. You?**_

_You know. Mild concussion here, minor bullet wound there..._

_**Ha! Par for the course.**_

_How's Lian?_

_**Couldn't be better. Jade and I brought her to Disneyland.**_

Good. Jade was apparently in a family mood. Dick hoped that it lasted.

_That's great! When will you be back in Star City?_

_**Beginning of next week. Why? You need me?**_

_Kind of. I have to ask Jade a couple of questions._

_**Shit. Is everything ok?**_

_Yeah. Everything's fine. I just want to ask her advice._

_**Jade's ADVICE? Why, you robbing a bank?**_

_Not quite. Call me when you get back?_

_**Yeah, sure.**_

_Thanks. Have a good time, and tell Lian Uncle Dick sends her a kiss._

_**Will do. Take care.**_

Dick ended the conversation, and looked at his phone. That lead was going nowhere for a while. Might as well get dressed and wait for the dark, which, by a look out the window, would be very soon.

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**The Next Evening**

**November 14th**

Dick watched from a fire escape as the police cuffed the would-be burglar that he had helped to apprehend. Unlike the police in Gotham, led by Jim Gordon, Barbara's father, the police in Blüdhaven were frequently unhappy to see Nightwing – or at least they had to _project _unhappiness. In Blüdhaven, he was considered a vigilante, little better than the criminals he fought, although he suspected that at least some of the police officers were relieved that he was working on their side.

Despite often being stonewalled by the police, though, he enjoyed working in Blüdhaven – there was such a need for someone who cared – someone who was not constrained by a badge.

However, his heart was not in patrolling tonight. It was, in fact, in the bedroom of a young woman who lived above a diner twenty-five or so miles away. Even though the incident with Devon earlier had weighed on his mind, he didn't care right now. He loved her, and he wanted her – whether he was dressed as Dick or Nightwing. And, as Jason had said – what difference did it make? She may have thought that she was sleeping with Nightwing, and she was, of course, but she was also sleeping with Dick.

He climbed the fire escape to the roof, and launched a jumpline. He was going to see his girlfriend.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

Devon paced her bedroom. What should she do when Nightwing came to her window – _if _he came to her window? Her bruise was still visible. She couldn't let him undress her, and she _couldn't _wear a turtleneck again. He would be sure to be suspicious.

And what should she do now that she knew that she still had – _feelings _for Dick? Should she tell Nightwing?

_Are you an **idiot**_? She asked herself. _You never, ever, ever tell a guy that you might have the hots for another one. Besides, it's not as if you **don't **have the hots for Nightwing – you do – wow, do you! _

She stopped pacing. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe it was her hormones. Maybe she was just – extra horny, and Dick happened to be around, and she had mistaken horniness for desire for _him_.

So maybe there was no problem. All she had to do was sleep with Nightwing, and she would realize that wanting Dick Grayson was just a byproduct of her hormones.

Except that she couldn't sleep with Nightwing because she had to hide a huge, whopping bruise on her neck from trying to kill him.

She sank down on her bed, her head in her hands. Why did her life have to be _so _complicated?

Well, she couldn't sleep with him tonight. That was non-negotiable, horny or not.

She would just have to keep her window closed, and, should she see him at her window, she would tell him that she had a headache. And cramps. And that she would see him on Friday.

Yes, that's what she would do.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

Dick sat outside Devon's window, pouting. Her window was closed. Not only was it closed, it was _locked_. She was unavailable, and he could guess why.

Still, even though certain _parts_ of her couldn't be involved, there _were _other things that they could do – weren't there? After all, they had done _other things _last night.

_Yeah, other things – for **you**_, he pointed out wryly to himself. _And what's wrong with that?_ His selfish side asked.

He sighed. Should he knock on her window? _You should just leave her alone_, he ordered himself. Still, he found himself rapping on the glass, ignoring the voice inside that told him to leave.

Thirty seconds later and the window slid open. Devon stared at him blearily, her eyes half closed and her head a halo of messed hair.

"Hi." He smiled self-consciously.

"Mm." She nodded and mumbled but did not step back to allow him entrance.

He frowned at her and reached through the window to touch her cheek. "Is everything okay?"

"Headache. Cramps." She rubbed her eyes.

"Oh." He was disappointed. "So, not tonight, then?"

She shook her head. "Friday."

"Oh." He said again, at a loss at what to say. Friday seemed a long way off.

"Goodnight." She leaned out, gave him a sleepy kiss, turned, and staggered back to bed.

"Goodnight." He watched her with dismay as she crawled under the covers and seemed to pass out.

_I guess I'm sleeping alone tonight_. He closed the window, reluctantly shot a line up to the roof, and swung back into the night.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Day**

**November 15th**

Devon brought back the plate of eggs to the pass window, and pushed it to George. "These are wrong. He wanted over easy."

The cook groaned. "Which table is that?"

"Three."

"Three?" George grabbed the order off the board where Devon placed them for him to see. "It says scrambled."

"I know. My fault."

He sighed. "It's okay. I'll get them done right now." He took the plate and disappeared, and Devon took a deep breath.

That was the _second _mistake she had made in as many hours. She had not been able to concentrate all morning, and she suspected that it was because she had been – _unfulfilled _since last Saturday.

All of a sudden, her body had become very greedy for physical contact – the kind of physical contact that Nightwing could give her. She did not know why – she had gone over _two_ years without a man, but, now, after only a week or so of him visiting almost nightly, she couldn't live without it.

He was, without a doubt, the best lover that she had ever had. Of course, his competition was skimpy – she had only ever had two boyfriends, and one of them had been a virgin when they met – of course, so had she.

But Nightwing...Nightwing _knew _his way around the female anatomy. Very well. _Exceedingly _well. Breathtakingly well.

But he was forbidden until Friday at least.

She pouted and folded her arms, surveying the diner. Damned stupid bruise – keeping her sexually frustrated!

A customer waved her over for a refill on coffee, and, with a sigh, she obliged. The man, about thirty years old and rather handsome, smiled at her winningly, and she returned his smile with little enthusiasm. He wasn't Nightwing, and she had no interest in him.

How she wished that Nightwing would walk in right now and – and what? Push her down into an empty booth and bang her? Hmm. No. Too – public. Besides, he wouldn't come to the diner in the middle of the day – in his uniform.

But would he come in civilian clothes, unmasked – just to see if she recognized him? She would like to think that she _would _recognize him.

_Of course _she would recognize him. She would recognize him anywhere – with or without his mask. She knew his walk, his mannerisms, his voice, his laugh, the shape of his hands, the breadth of his shoulders. She knew _everything _about him – except what the top half of his face looked like.

_Big deal_, she thought. _I'd know him_.

She pictured him coming in, after the diner closed, closing the door so quietly that the bell on the handle would not ring, and she pictured him coming up behind her and breathing her name into her ear, and she pictured turning around and _knowing _that it was him, and taking him to the supply closet and...

_Damn it_! Damn it, damn it!

Friday was a _very _long way off...

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Day**

**November 15th**

Dick sat in class, absently listening to the professor talk about the rise of personal computers in the 1980's, and not giving a damn about MS-DOS and the Commodore 64, and pseudo terminals.

Honestly, sometimes he cared so little for his classes that he wondered why he bothered going at all.

The short answer to that was that he might have cared little about his classes, but he cared _a lot _about his education.

And, for that reason, he was sitting through a boring class instead of investigating the sniper who had been trying to kill his family and instead of banging his girlfriend.

His girlfriend who _wa__sn't _a girlfriend.

He sighed and tried to focus on the professor's words, but it was no use. He had already missed the beginning of the lecture thanks to his inattention, and there was no way to pick it up now. He hoped that there would be no test on the information that he _didn't _get.

"All right," the professor closed the text and returned to her podium. "We'll have a unit test on the burgeoning personal computer era next Tuesday."

Shit.

"And for anyone who missed anything, the notes will be online later today."

Thank God.

"But don't think that you can sit and daydream in my class, _Mr. Grayson_, and get away with it."

Every head swiveled to Dick, and he blushed and smiled apologetically. "I kind of have a lot on my mind."

The professor's face shuttered. "Class dismissed."

As the class filed out, Dick gathered up his things to go, and the professor called his name and beckoned him.

Dick groaned silently. The last thing he needed was to be reamed by a teacher – again.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked to the lectern.

She looked at him critically before speaking. "Mr. Grayson, you have been absent during my last three lectures."

Dick pulled his mouth down. "No, ma'am. I haven't missed a class this semester."

"That's true. But you might as well have."

Dick looked down at his feet, knowing the truth in her words.

"You know that you have a culminating paper in this class, and, to be frank, I don't know how well you'll do." At Dick's fallen face, she continued. "You can be a good student. You _have _been a good student, and you have the _ability_ to get a good grade in this class. _You _just have to decide whether you want that."

Dick gave a deep sigh, but said nothing else.

"And there's only a month left of the semester, Mr. Grayson, so you'd better make up your mind soon."

Dick bobbed his head guiltily. "Yes, ma'am."

"See you next week." She dismissed him, and he dragged himself from the room desultorily.

Damn it! He couldn't get a bad grade in this class. Bruce would _kill_ him – not because he had gotten a bad grade, but because he had not done his best.

And Bruce would know that.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He would have to work hard – very hard – to get a decent grade. That meant changing his extracurricular activities.

Damn it.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Evening**

**November 16th**

"The dishwasher is ready, Devon." Marie looked at her granddaughter, sitting at the dinner table, staring into space. "Devon?"

Devon pulled herself from her reverie. "I'm sorry, Grandma. What were you saying?"

"I was saying that the dishwasher is ready. Do you want to give me your plate?" She extended an empty hand.

Devon stared down at her dinner, mostly uneaten. "Oh. Yeah. Okay." She got up and carried the plate to her grandmother.

"You barely ate a thing. Are you feeling all right?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Of course."

Her grandmother looked unconvinced. "Everything okay with school?"

"Yeah. Oh, yeah. Fine." Devon nodded.

"And – Larry?"

"Everything's good with him, too. I mean, as good as it can be. I'm just a little – tired, I guess." _Tired, distracted, whatever..._

"Hmm. Aren't you sleeping well?"

Devon shrugged. "Yeah. I guess. I'm just – I don't know." She sighed. "I'm going to take a shower, do a little bit of studying and – go to bed, I guess." _And wait for Nightwing._

"And you can sleep late tomorrow."

"Yeah. That'll be – nice." _What will be nice is seeing Nightwing again. _She gave her grandmother a kiss. "Sleep well, Grandma."

"Thank you, Dear. You, too."

Devon took a quick shower and put on the tiniest panties she had, as well as the tightest, sheerest t-shirt in her wardrobe. She wanted Nightwing to want her so desperately that he was mad with desire, because she was.

Every night and morning she checked her neck for the appearance of the bruise, and, as she had anticipated, by that day, Friday, it was faded enough that it was invisible in low light, and she felt safe welcoming Nightwing back into her bedroom.

She settled down to wait for him, studying the lecture notes from her biology class, for which she had a test on Wednesday, right before Thanksgiving. The entire class had groaned when the professor had announced it, except Devon. After all, it was not as if she traveled anywhere for the holiday; she and her grandmother always bought a tiny turkey, and watched the parades and the football games by themselves.

In other words, it was a lot like any other day of the year – but with more food.

Two hours passed, and then three, and Devon was starting to despair that he would ever show up. Maybe he was busy – after all, he _did _have a "night" job. She wasn't his only responsibility.

She finally decided, after midnight, that he was not coming, put away all of her books, climbed into bed, and turned off the light.

No sooner had she done that than she heard a scraping at her window, and she jumped out of bed, just as one leg came through the opening.

"You're here." She smiled at him as he unfolded himself out of the window.

He grinned as he stripped off his gloves. "Did you miss me?"

"_God, yes_!" She closed the gap between them and was in his arms, her mouth finding his easily.

He felt so _right _in her arms, his body molded against hers, his hands on her back. "Are you open for business again?" He asked, his lips against her neck.

He felt a rumble of laughter against his mouth. "Are you asking if I sell _it_?" She pulled away, grinning.

He looked at her. "N – no. No! Nothing like that! Shit – why doesn't my mouth work around you?"

"It works just fine. Take off your clothes."

He smiled at her as he began to strip. "Is that a _yes_?"

"Yes. And I have a surprise."

His smile jumped. "I like surprises."

She snuggled close against him after he removed his uniform top. "Well, you know what this past week was?"

"An off-limits week."

"Yes. And you know what that means?"

"It means that I was horny for days with no outlet."

"Besides that."

He shook his head.

She kissed his jawline. "It means that tonight and the next couple of nights are safe."

"Safe?" He was bewildered.

She nodded, and her hands went to the waistline of his uniform bottom. "Mm-hmm. Safe as in _no jacket required_."

"Oh? _Ohhhhhh_." Comprehension dawned. "_Really_? That _is _a good surprise."

"I thought that you might like it."

He nuzzled against her neck, sending a thrill down her spine. "I like everything about you."

"Oh, yeah? _Prove it_."

* * *

Devon lay with her back to Nightwing, his arm draped over her body, cupping her breast.

She purred in contentment, and snuggled back against him.

"This has been a _very_ long week without you." He said, his voice drowsy with satisfaction.

She was pleased by his confession, and gave a small smile. "You've spent your entire life without me. A week apart shouldn't be a big deal." She teased.

He leaned forward and kissed her bare shoulder. "You don't know what you're missing until you've had it."

"True."

There was a long silence while they both contemplated life without the other, and found such a prospect unappealing.

"Will you be around next week?" She asked hesitantly.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"It's Thanksgiving."

He was startled. "Oh, shit. That's right."

"Have any big plans?"

"Well, you know – all of us superheroes spend Thanksgiving together."

She turned in his arms to face him. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah. Superman roasts the turkey with his heat vision."

She slapped his arm lightly. "Smart ass."

He grinned and nuzzled at her neck, and she giggled as his stubble tickled her skin.

"So what are you _really _doing?" She threaded her fingers through his hair. _God_, she loved his black, black hair.

He lifted his face to look at her. "Why? Are you inviting me?"

The moment he asked it, he wished that he could call the question back.

She lifted her brows. "I'd invite you in a heartbeat if I didn't think my grandma would have a coronary eating dinner with a guy in a mask. Unless, you know, you'd be _willing _to take it off."

He turned red. "Oh. Yeah. I was just – kidding. You know." He attempted to backpedal.

"Thought not."

"But, to be frank, wouldn't inviting me to dinner with your grandma kind of violate the whole 'no involvement outside of sex' thing you wanted?"

It was her turn to be embarrassed. Shit. He was right. What was _wrong_ with her? "Yes. I'm shutting up now. Enjoy Thanksgiving with Superman."

He groaned and began kissing her along the collarbone. "Is it wrong that all I want to do is spend the whole day in bed with you?"

"You'd miss the parade." Her arms went around him, and her fingertips dragged lightly down his spine.

"This is better than a parade." He felt himself begin to grow hard again, and his mouth trailed down.

"Better than all the marching bands?" She asked as he began to suck on the skin on the underside of her breast.

"Mm-hmm."

"And the balloons?" She was finding it hard to concentrate.

He nodded.

"And Santa Claus?" Her voice was a bit strangled.

"Oh, yes." He paused only briefly to speak.

"And the – Rockettes?"

He stopped. "Wait. I love the Rockettes. I can't miss them."

"Do you _really _like them?"

"What's not to love? It's a line of nearly identical women all kicking in unison."

She ignored his last statement. "Are you giving me a hickey?"

"Is that a problem?" The words were garbled due to her breast in his mouth.

"Not if I can return the favor."

"Mmm. Just pick somewhere – inconspicuous."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

Damian walked into his bedroom, his mask in his hand. He and Batman had just returned from patrolling, and he was looking forward to sleep. He did not like to admit weakness – in anything – and to confess to his father that he was tired would never have occurred to him, so he had forced himself to remain alert and vigilant while patrolling, even as he and Batman had cornered a mugger.

The man had rushed him, and Damian had evaded him – a half a second too late. As a result, Damian had been tackled to the ground, and had been ignominiously rescued by his father, who, after knocking the perpetrator unconscious, had lectured Robin on preparation and anticipation.

Now, as he entered his bedroom, Damian was more than ready to take a quick shower and fall into bed.

Until he pulled out the drawer on his bedside stand to see that his "Grayson" alarm was blinking.

He snatched it from the drawer and peered at it. With a few presses of buttons, he brought up the GPS coordinates. It was the Fifth Street Diner in downtown Gotham – again.

Eyes narrowed, Damian fisted his small hand. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, you MAY have heard, on the internet, as of March 23, 2013, that Green Lantern: The Animated Series MAY have a chance at another season thanks to the crowdfunding website smgo dot tv, which, although in the beta stages, APPARENTLY has had a lot of success with getting legal right to pursue a second season of the show. You're probably saying, "that's great for GLTAS - but what about YJ?" Well, GLTAS and YJ are pretty much in the same boat, and, if one gets the go-ahead to pursue an additional season, the other probably will, too. For that reason, PLEASE visit smgo dot tv sometime and vote for additional seasons of BOTH shows. The site is not taking any more votes until next Saturday, March 30th, so go there then and cast your vote. You might ask what happens then - well, to the best of my knowledge, should either or both shows get enough votes (and legal rights - which they have for GLTAS already), smgo then takes pledges from those wanting to see the show go forward and willing to pledge money for that. Any money pledged should be safe - sponsors only pay if ALL the money is raised. Anyway, it seems to be a win/win situation, and PROBABLY the only way we will get to see more seasons of these amazing shows!

Anyway, thanks for reading, and PLEASE review.

By the way, Roy AND Jade will be entering the scene soon, so, if you are a fan of a certain ginger archer and/or his buttkicking assassin wife, come back soon!


	31. Chapter 31

**Blüdhaven**

**The Next Day**

**November 17th**

Dick looked at Jason as his younger brother searched the online rental ads.

"So, you staying in Blüdhaven or going to Gotham?"

Jason gave a low laugh, but didn't turn from the screen. "I'm staying the hell out of Gotham, that's for sure. Too close to home."

"Yeah. I understand that."

"I was actually thinking of trying New York City." He shrugged. "After all, that's where my job is. But there's no way I can afford it."

"I'm seriously going to miss you."

Jason did turn from the screen this time, swiveling the bar stool. "Me, too, Dickie." He smiled.

A thought that had been nagging at Dick since Devon had mentioned Thanksgiving, the night before, finally burst forth. "Why don't you come to the house for Thanksgiving?"

Jason looked at him for a moment, then started laughing. "You get permission from Bruce to ask me?"

Dick's brows drew down. "No. Of course not. You asked me _not _to tell him you were here. I haven't."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Jason turned back to the computer.

"Why not?" He watched as Jason ignored him. "Come on. Bruce would want you to come. Alfred would _love _it." He sighed when Jason was silent. "Look, with everything _changing_, it would be great if we could all be together."

Jason stiffened and turned around again, his hands braced on his thighs. "What do you mean – _changing_?"

Dick's eyes widened. He had forgotten that Jason didn't know that Bruce wanted to give up being Batman. _Shit_! He hadn't meant to say anything.

Too late now.

_Jason should know, anyway_. He thought.

Dick took a deep breath. "Bruce – oh, shit. Where do I start?" He ran a hand through his hair. "Remember when I got shot last month?"

"Yeah." Jason nodded slowly.

"Bruce got – worried. He _is _worried. Worried that someone is targeting _us_ – the Robins."

"Yeah. I know."

"He thinks it's too dangerous for us to – continue."

Jason's eyes narrowed. "_Continue_ doing what?"

Dick shrugged, but looked away from his brother's suspicious face. "You know. Doing – what we – do." As he said it, he realized how that must have sounded to the ears of the man who sacrificed most for Bruce's vision.

Jason blinked, and his face darkened. "Stop being _bats_? Stop fighting crime? All of you?"

"Yeah."

"How do you all – _feel_ about this? Do you _want_ to stop?"

Dick shrugged. "I don't know. At first I didn't – and neither did Tim. But we're – getting used to the idea."

"And Barbara?"

"She's moving to New York to go to Columbia. She'd have to stop anyway."

"What about the runt?"

"He – doesn't know. Bruce wants to tell him once everything is – set. Once he puts away – _Batman._"

"_Bruce _is quitting, too?"

Dick scratched his scalp. "Uh, yeah. I guess. You know, I _don't _really know if that is what he – intends." He ended lamely, and mendaciously.

Jason looked out the window, his jaw set. "Huh. What do you know?" After a long moment, he turned back to Dick. "Yeah. I'll go to Thanksgiving, Dick. What time?"

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

"Oh, God, don't stop." Dick groaned. "Devon, don't – ahhhhhhhhh." His sentence ended in a satisfied sigh.

"How does that feel?" She leaned forward and kissed his naked back.

"Too good for words." He turned his face into the pillow as he let out another loud moan. When it passed, he turned his head on the pillow. "Where did you learn that?"

"Anatomy class – first year."

"God, it's good. Oh, _yeah_, shit! Yeah, right there. Oh, that hurts!"

She chuckled, and dug the heel of her palm into his shoulder blade. "I thought you could take the pain, Nightmare."

"I never knew that a massage could hurt so much. In a good way."

She smiled, and laid her face against his bare back. "I'm glad you like it."

"Yes, I like it. Very much."

"And you're feeling better?"

As she sat up, he turned over and lifted one hand to rub along her lip. "Much."

"Next time don't hyperextend your shoulder when you're swinging."

He sat up and slid his hands beneath the heavy curtain of her hair to cup her skull. "Yes, ma'am."

"I can't believe I have to tell you that." Her pulse quickened as he leaned towards her. They had been lovers for over two weeks, but her heart still jumped when he leaned in slowly to kiss her.

Her eyes fluttered as his lips touched hers. When his hands dropped to her arms and slid beneath the sleeves of her t-shirt, her skin prickled in awareness.

They slid down the bed until they lay comfortably along it, she in his arms.

"This is nice," she murmured against his lips.

"What?" He tenderly kissed her face.

"Taking our time." She pressed her own lips to his chin. "Cuddling."

"Foreplay?"

"If you want to be clinical about it."

"Not romantic enough for you?"

"Maybe you should stop talking." She smiled again.

"Are you saying that I can't sweep you off your feet with honeyed words?"

"Oh, Nightmare, you've already swept me off my feet. Don't try so hard."

He laughed. "I'll have you know that I'm considered _very _eloquent within my family."

"Your _Batfamily_?" She teased.

"Among the Robins."

She stopped for a moment. "How many of you _are _there?"

He froze. _Too much information, Dick_! "Uh, you know, one or two – hundred."

She smiled. "It must be pretty crowded at family reunions."

"Especially since we all dress and look alike."

She crinkled her brow. "Do you really? All black haired and handsome?"

He frowned. Still too much information. Time to change the subject – a little. "So you think I'm handsome?"

"Well, I wouldn't sleep with you if I thought that you were ugly." She thought on her own words for a moment. "Wow. Shallow much, Devon?" She asked herself aloud.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up. I pretty much first noticed you because you're gorgeous."

She turned over on her side and looked at him. "Really? _First_ noticed me? When was that?"

_Damn it, Dick! Where the hell is your head tonight_? _When will you remember that you are **not **Dick Grayson here_? He thought quickly, and decided on mostly-the-truth. "Baby, when that guy broke in. I – uh – walked in the room, and the first thing I thought was, '_shit_, _she's beautiful_.' And I wished that I had saved you." All of which was true.

She smiled and fell back against the pillow. "Hmm. That's sweet. And then you decided to spy on me in my bedroom."

"You _don't _have to bring that up."

She snuggled up against him. "It's okay. I've recovered. Besides, after I saw you that time, I kind of started – _showing off _for you."

Dick's eyes widened behind his mask. "You did _what now_?"

"I – changed my clothes in front of the window – once or twice – so that you could see me."

He gave her an astonished look. "How come you didn't tell me this until now?"

She shrugged again. "I don't know. But it was kind of – _hot _knowing that you were watching me. Wanting me."

"You _exhibitionist_!" His grin was appreciative

"Well, I'm an exhibitionist and you're a voyeur. We fit well together."

Her gave a murmur of approval, and loomed over her. "Speaking of fitting well together..." His fingers slid into the top of her underwear, and he began tugging them off.

"Is your arm well enough to be doing this?"

"It will be if _you're_ on top."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Day**

**November 18**

Dick watched as Bruce sat down at the shoulder press machine in Wayne Manor's gym, wondering when he should broach the subject of Jason to him.

He had come to the house to work out his own shoulder – the one he had wrenched the night before, which, despite Devon's massage, was still sore, but also to talk to Bruce about Jason.

But, now, he didn't know how to start.

Stepping off the elliptical machine. he wiped his face with a towel and grabbed a bottle of water. He offered one to Bruce, who, with a shake of his head, refused.

_Just jump in, Dick_. _Just say it_. "So, Thanksgiving is this week." _Smooth._

Bruce looked at him with a raised brow, but did not cease his exercise.

Dick blew air through his teeth. Why didn't he just come and out and say what he wanted to say? _Jason has been staying at my place. He's got a job and he's taking his meds, and he seems good. And I want him to come to Thanksgiving. So does he. And so should you._

"Jason has been staying at my place. He's got a job and he's taking his meds, and he seems good. And I want him to come to Thanksgiving. So does he. And so should you." _There. That wasn't so hard, was it_?

Bruce looked at him briefly before turning back to the machine. "Fine."

Dick blinked at him. "Fine? That's _it_? That's all you have to say? What about _'Dick, you really should have told me about Jason?' _Or, _'you know that you shouldn't keep secrets from me. I'm the Batman!'_"

Bruce released the bars of the machine and turned to his oldest son. "Dick, you really should have told me about Jason. Satisfied?"

Dick tossed the towel to the floor. "You're taking all of this _very _well."

"I've known for weeks that Jason has been staying with you."

Dick allowed his head to roll back, and he looked at the ceiling. "Of course you have."

Bruce stood and moved to the free weights. "The truth is, Dick, that I've had Jason under surveillance for months. There is very little that he does that I _don't _know about. I knew when he got the prescription filled for his meds. I knew when he got a job. I knew when he moved in with you."

Dick looked at his father, then threw his arms in the air. "And you didn't _say_ anything?"

"I knew that you would say something when you were ready. And I also knew that, if Jason wanted me to know, he would have told you to tell me." He picked up a small dumbbell and began doing biceps curls.

Dick gave a sigh. Was there _anything _that Bruce didn't know about his sons? About anything?

_Wait. Does he know about Devon_? That thought was terrifying.

_Oh, if he knew about Devon, he would say something. **Definitely**_.

"So you don't care that I didn't tell you?" Dick was still incredulous.

"You just did." Bruce changed arms.

"But not right away. Not for weeks."

It was Bruce who sighed now. "Yes, I would have preferred that you had told me when Jason first moved in. But I understand why you didn't. He asked you _not _to, and to have broken that confidence would have been wrong. But I trust that, had there been a real reason to tell me, you would have. I trust you, Dick. I trust your opinion, and your word, and your actions, and your _reasons_." He put down the small dumbbell and looked directly at his son. "I thought that you knew that."

Dick was frozen, dumbfounded. He had never known – really known – the confidence that Bruce had in him. That his _father _had in him. He shook his head silently, his eyes large. "No." His voice was a whisper.

Bruce, in a rare show of affection, clapped Dick on both shoulders. "Well, now you do." He walked over to the intercom on the wall. "We should let Alfred know that there will be one more for Thanksgiving dinner."

Dick nodded in silence, his soul wrenched apart. _Tell him. Tell him about Devon. He should know. You should tell him_. _It's wrong to keep it from him. _

"Bruce, I –" He began, but stopped.

His father looked at him expectantly.

"I'm going upstairs to find out from Alfred what time dinner is – to tell Jason."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Evening**

Devon pushed her chair back from the dining room table and stood up to stretch. She had been sitting at her laptop for _hours_, trying to get a handle on a paper due in her history class the week after Thanksgiving. However, she was failing _miserably_ at concentrating on the job at hand. Visions of black hair and strong arms and a sculpted abdomen kept floating through her head, driving away all thoughts of the indigenous people of Mesoamerica.

"Uhhh!" She raised her arms above her head, and then pressed her hands against her eyes. "What is _wrong _with me?!"

"Sorry? I didn't hear what you said, Dear." Her grandmother called from the living room.

Devon looked at her for a moment. "Nothing, Grandma. Nothing."

She sat down again and leaned her chin on her hands. God, how she regretted taking this class! How she regretted taking _most _of her classes. Especially since all she wanted to do was dream about Nightwing, and lie in bed with him, and feel his body against hers, and inside her...

"Shit." She stood up again and began pacing. She had to stop this. She had to concentrate. She had to get him out of her mind.

"Okay." She stopped in the middle of the room. "I can do this." She mumbled to herself. "I can just – rid my mind of him." She closed her eyes and tried to push thoughts of him away.

And now Dick was in her head.

"Arrrrrggggghhhh!" She let out a loud wail of frustration.

She had to get out of here. She had to get out of her head.

Target practice. She could go do some target practice. That would get Dick and Nightwing out of her mind.

Wouldn't it?

Within thirty minutes, she was riding a bus down to the docks, handgun and stun gun in her backpack for protection.

They were just pulling away from a downtown bookstore when a familiar face reflected in the glass of the window, and she turned, startled, to see Wally West trying to find an empty seat.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. _She tried to sink lower into the seat, and closed her eyes.

"D – Devon?"

Damn her luck!

She opened her eyes and straightened. "H – hey. Wally. How – how are you?" _Go away._

The seat in front of her was empty, of course, and he settled down, flinging his backpack down before he sat. "I'm good. Fancy meeting you on the bus!"

"Yeah. Small world." _Small, unfair world_. "I didn't know you rode the bus." _Don't engage! Don't engage!_

He gave a rueful smile. "Yeah, well. You know. No car. And I needed a book that's out of print, and Recycled Reads had it. Have you ever been there? It's got a _lot _of good stuff. This is the second book I've gotten there this semester." He held up a thick paperback.

She shook her head. "No. I – haven't. Gotten everything I need at the library." She wished herself a thousand miles away from Dick's friend.

Wally smiled. "Libraries are great places. I used to work at the Stanford library when I was there. My parents met at the library of their college."

She gave a weak smile. "Great."

"Yeah. Great." He watched her for a moment. "How's your semester going?"

"Okay." She shrugged ungraciously. "Screwing up a lot of classes."

He looked uncomfortable. "O – oh. Sorry to – hear that."

"Yeah. Been busy." She didn't know why she was being so awful to him, but, firstly, she was _trying _to get Dick out of her head, and, secondly, how would she get off at the docks if _Wally _was on the bus? There was absolutely _no_ valid reason she could give for getting off at the dock stop on a Saturday night. Unless she was looking to get mugged.

"So..." He seemed ill at ease himself now. "Where are you off to?"

Devon had been dreading that question. "Campus." That was the only answer she could think of.

"Oh, yeah? Me, too. Going back – home. To on-campus housing. Where I live." He was _obviously _uncomfortable now. "You going to the library?"

_Shit_. "Yeah. Going to the library."

His face took on a speculative look. "I think it closes at seven on Saturdays."

It was 7:30.

"Oh. Really?" _There goes that excuse_.

"Yeah."

"Oh. Wow. Guess I'm – wasting my time, then." She tried to seem sincere.

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

She shrugged. "Not your fault."

"No." He nodded in agreement.

She watched as the bus slid by the docks, and swore to herself. Shit. She would never make it around the route and to the docks again before 9:30 or ten. That would put her back home past midnight for certain. Too late – Nightwing might come by before she even got home.

She sighed. Apparently she was going to ride the bus all the way around its route and back home. What a fun way to spend a Saturday night.

"So, you gonna ride the bus all the way around the route and back home?"

It was as if he were reading her mind, and she looked at him sharply, wondering if he could read minds.

_Idiot_! _He's a **speed**__meta, not a psychic! _ "Yeah. I guess."

"Can't you get off the bus and wait for the 36 at G.U.? It'll take you back to the diner a lot faster."

"Yeah, I can, I guess, but – wait. How do you know I live above the diner?" She knew, for a fact, that she had never mentioned it to Wally.

It is a well-known fact that redheads cannot hide blushes, and Wally West proved that true when he flushed a deep red. "Er, oh, well. Uh – I – um – don't know."

She looked at him with suspicion. "Dick told you."

"He – may have."

She sighed – she was not going to escape thinking about Dick Grayson tonight. "Look, Wally, I don't know what Dick told you about me..."

"He didn't tell me anything – really!" He gave a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped. "Dick is one of my best friends. Has been for ten years. And it's natural for him to talk about girls that he likes."

_Girls he likes – more like girls who friend-zoned him. _"Did he tell you I blew him off?"

Wally looked vastly uncomfortable. "Not in so many words." He raised his hands in supplication. "Look, this is none of my business. I only know about it because he told me –"

"What else did he tell you?" _About how I threw him out of the diner? Or that I sabotaged his date with that pretty redheaded girl_?

His answer was too quick. "About you? Nothing! Really!"

"I find that hard to believe. Dick is _nothing _if not chatty."

"Okay, he may have said a thing or two.' Wally admitted. "But not any more. He knows you're – going out with someone else now, and he respects that! He _really _does!"

Devon's eyes widened. Dick _knew _about Nightwing? "What?! What do you mean he knows I'm 'going out with someone else now?' I never told him _that_!"

Wally paled considerably. "Oh. Oh. I – um – oh, sorry. I guess I – must have, you know – misunderstood – or something."

Devon's eyes narrowed. There was something weird going on here. Something she couldn't pinpoint. "What has Dick been saying? What's he been _doing_? Has he been _spying _on me?"

Wally's eyes nearly popped from his head. "What?! No! No! Of course not! Dick – Dick's not like – look, he's a _good _guy, and he _really _likes you!"

"What are you _saying_, Wally?" A chill went down her spine.

"Oh, hey! Look! It's my stop." Wally almost betrayed his super power with the speed he displayed exiting the bus, and Devon watched him walk away, her face dark.

As the bus pulled from the stop, her mind replayed the conversation she had just had with Wally. What did he know? What had Dick told him? What did Dick _know_? Was it _possible _that he knew about her and Nightwing? Had he – _spied _on her? On _them_?

_Great. There may be someone spying on the guy who was spying on me._

One thing was certain: Wally West knew a lot more than he was admitting. And she needed to get some answers from him. The question, however, was how...

* * *

Wally walked as quickly as possible from the bus, distraught from his encounter with Devon. He had not meant to say all that he had said – upon entering the bus and seeing her, he had been tempted to disembark and wait for another bus or even speed home, but, subduing those feelings as silly, he had approached her.

_Instincts, Wally! Why **didn't **you listen to your instincts?_

He had approached her, and things had gone downhill from there. She was obviously uncomfortable around him, and, inexplicably trying to assuage her discomfort, he had babbled unthinkingly, and had revealed that he knew where she lived – something that he shouldn't have known. He had then gone on to _foolishly _assert that Dick, rather than gossiping about her to Wally, had actually only said something because he really liked her, and, in fact, was _such _a great guy that he was intentionally keeping his distance from her because of her involvement with another guy.

Which was, of course, something else that Wally should not have known. It was something that _Dick _should not have known either – something that he could have only known if he had been spying on her, the conclusion to which Devon had jumped – or, _worse_, something that Dick could have only known if he was, in fact, the _other _guy she was involved with.

_Either way, Wally, you screwed up **big **time. And you're going to have to come clean to Dick about it._

Wally groaned. He did _not_ look forward to that conversation. A conversation that he knew that he would have to conduct with Dick in person.

"Shit." Wally mumbled, and zipped up his jacket.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Late That Night**

Devon was back home by the time Nightwing appeared at her window, and all thoughts of Wally West and Dick Grayson flew from her mind when Nightwing took her into his arms.

There wasn't room for anyone else in her mind at that moment. Nightwing, with his lips and hands and body, dominated every recess in her brain, and every part of her body.

Which was exactly what she wanted.

* * *

Nightwing fell exhausted onto the mattress next to Devon, slippery with sweat, a tired smile on his face. "I don't even train anymore." He teased. "I get all the exercise I need in this bed."

She licked the salt from his arm, and, moving his limb up, snuggled her shoulder into his arm pit. "Well, your hips should be limber and strong by now."

"They already were."

She gave a short laugh. "Is that your way of telling me that you were experienced when we met?"

His smile became devilish. "Maybe."

"Hmm. I believe it. And I'm torn between jealousy and gratitude to those unknown women."

"My feelings towards them are a little less complicated."

"Just gratitude?"

He grinned. "Yeah." He turned on his side towards her, and kissed her. "I'm always grateful when a girl lets me in her pants."

"As long as I'm the only you're _currently _grateful to."

"I'm flattered that you think I have time for anyone else." He kissed her again, and they settled comfortably into one another.

There was a companionable silence as their hearts and pulses began to slow. Devon looked over at Nightwing's profile. "You know," she began, "I'm not trying to _complain _or anything..." She trailed off.

"Didn't I do it right?"

She slapped at his chest lightly. "That's not it."

"What? Tell me." His voice was soft and satisfied.

"Well, you know, how – in the midst of – _you know_..."

"Are you embarrassed to talk about sex with me?"

She hid a smile against his skin. "Not really. Just – this time. Maybe."

"Really? Because we have done some _pretty_ dirty things."

"It's a hang-up. Now be quiet and listen. I'm trying to complain."

He chuckled. "Yes, dear."

"Okay. Here it is. Sometimes, you know, during – sex, you say, 'oh, God, _Devon_.'"

He smiled. "Yes. Isn't your name? I _am_ with the right girl, aren't I?"

She twirled the tip of her finger over his pectoral muscles. "Yes. It's just that I – I don't have anything to call you. I can only say, 'oh, God – _youuuuu_.' And it's kind of weird."

He laughed and looked down at her. "Are you trying to say that you want a name to call me while we're having sex? Have you tried _Nightwing_?"

"It's kind of – _long_."

"I've never had a complaint about the – _length_."

"Smart ass."

"Of my name." He tightened his arm around her. "Okay." He thought on it. "Well, how about just – _Night_?"

"Night? _Night_? You want me to call you _Night_?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Well, it's weird – and it kind of reminds me of that director."

"You mean M. Night Shyamalan? The guy that destroyed _Avatar_?"

"I have _never _forgiven him for that."

"He mispronounced all the names."

"And changed the plot."

"Let's not talk about it. I'm still angry." Dick glared at the memory.

"So you see why calling you _Night _is a non-starter?"

"Yeah." He was silent for a moment. "Well, what kind of names are common for guys in, I don't know – romance novels?"

She looked at him as if he were crazy. "Romance novels? How the hell should I know? I barely get time to read my textbooks!"

"Hmm. I see your problem." He took his arm from around her and hung over the bed to grab his utility belt, from which he extracted his phone.

"What are you doing?"

He settled back down next to her and gave her a quick kiss. "Helping you out." He swiped at his lock screen.

"What's the picture on your lock screen?" She peered over his shoulder.

"Oh. It's a bowl of cereal." He showed it to her.

"You have _cereal _on your lock screen. Why?"

He grinned and looked at her. "Oh. Well, Red Robin thought it would be funny."

"Red Robin?"

"One of the old Robins."

"_Old _Robins? He's graduated – like you?"

He shrugged. "I guess."

"So you're the oldest?"

A small smile came to his face. "Yeah. Anyway, I love cereal."

"If you love cereal so much, why don't you marry it?" She smiled devilishly.

"Ah. You know what younger brothers are like." A warning bell went off in his head, and he decided to distract her by kissing her forehead. "Now _you_ stop distracting me. I'm on a mission." He pulled up an internet search window and typed in a query. "Hmm. _Rafe _seems to be a popular romance novel name."

"Rafe?" She was skeptical.

"No? How about – _Roman_?"

"Roman?!" She was incredulous.

"No good either?"

"Not really. I guess the _R _is popular in fiction right now for sexy men."

He smiled. "I guess so."

She sighed. "Okay, _Roman_. No. I don't like it."

He flipped suddenly, and was on top of her, one knee between her legs. "You could always call me _sex god_."

She grinned. "Only if you call me _sex goddess_."

"Oh, I do, love, I do."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I hope you noticed the small Easter egg in there for Avatar fans. If there seems to be ONE thing that all Avatar fans agree on, it's our disdain for M. Night Shyamalan's film adaptation of the series. And even Dick & Devon agree!

And, for those of you who read _Nightwing _comics, you will know that Dick's favorite food is – you guessed it – cereal.


	32. Chapter 32

**Blüdhaven**

**The Next Morning**

**November 18th**

Dick's cell phone rang, and he fumbled for it, staring at it blearily. Who the hell was calling him at eleven on a Sunday morning? _Everyone _who knew him knew _not _to call before two in the afternoon on Sundays. Sunday was his day to sleep as late as he possibly could.

Wally's contact came up, and he swiped the screen to answer the call.

"This better be good." He muttered into the phone, his face already back in his pillow.

"Dude, I'm standing outside. Let me in."

"Shit." He ended the call, sat up groggily, and looked around. He really didn't want to get up. He figured he had a good three hours of sleep left in him.

He dragged himself to his feet, and, naked, padded to the front door. Opening it a crack, he saw Wally standing in the hall. "Artemis with you?"

"No."

Dick threw the door open and staggered back towards his bedroom, leaving Wally to close the door after him. He fumbled in his bureau for underwear, and, pulling some on, walked crookedly back to the living room.

"Glad you got clothes on now. Felt a little – inadequate, to be honest." Wally rocked back and forth on his heels.

Dick scratched his head, and walked to the kitchen to make coffee. When the water began dripping, he looked at his friend. "What the hell are you doing here so early – on a Sunday? Everything okay?"

Wally took a seat at the counter. "No one's shot or dead. But _okay_? I'll let you be the judge."

Dick looked at him in confusion. "Don't say anything else until I have coffee in me." He got down two mugs from the cabinet. "You see Jason on your way up?"

"_Jason_? Todd?"

"How many Jason's you know?"

"Just the one, thankfully. Why would he be here?"

"Been staying with me."

Wally registered surprise. "Oh. I didn't know he was – back."

"Yeah. Got a job. He's doing – well, I think."

"Huh. Good for him. No, I didn't see him."

Dick tried opening his eyes wide. "Odd. He's usually around on Sundays. I'll have to text him later."

The coffee finished brewing, and Dick poured two cups. He took his to the sofa, and dropped down. Wally followed, and sat down on the chair opposite.

"Okay," Dick said after taking a sip. "Spill."

Wally was silent for a few long seconds, staring into his mug. "I rode the bus last night."

"Congratulations." Dick lifted his mug in a salute.

"I – ran into someone."

"Literally?"

"No. Surprisingly, I meant that metaphorically."

"O – kay." Dick frowned and took another sip.

Wally sighed. "I'm just going to come right out and say it." He looked at Dick. "I saw Devon on the bus."

Dick saw nothing amiss. "Yeah? So? She rides the bus to school."

"Yeah. I know. I kind of – sat near her – because the bus was kind of full."

"Okay. Wally – you're allowed to sit _near _her." Dick was confused.

"I – talked to her, too."

"Why are you telling me this? I mean, thanks for the full disclosure and all, but I'm not going to dog you for talking to my girl."

"You may not feel that way when you find out what I said."

Dick was suddenly completely awake. "Wally, what did you _say_?"

Wally looked dismayed. "I may have given her – accidentally! The impression that you're – kind of – " misery came over his face, " – spying on her."

Dick, who was in the middle of drinking, swallowed the coffee in a gulp, and began coughing.

Wally watched Dick in alarm until he recovered.

"Are you _frigging kidding _me?!" It was obviously a rhetorical question, because Dick continued. "You _told _her that I've been _spying on her_?! Have you lost your _mind_?!"

"I _said_ that it was an accident."

"_An accident_? How the hell was it an _accident_?"

"I let slip that I know that she lives over the diner, and she – caught me. So she _assumed _that you told me."

"I did tell you! But you didn't have to tell _her_ that!"

"I didn't! I swear! She guessed! I mean, _who _else could tell me? And then," he sighed, "well, then, I told her that you really _liked _her –"

Dick groaned. "Oh, Wally. Couldn't you just keep your mouth shut – for once?"

"I tried to. I _meant _to. But then I told her that you – _respected _her and were giving her space because she was seeing someone else – "

Dick shot to his feet. "_You did what_?"

Wally hung his head. "I know. I know."

"Holy shit! Wally! You _told _her that I know that she's going out with someone else?! That _someone else _is Nightwing, you ass!" He put his hand on his forehead and turned away from his friend. "Oh, shit. How would I – how would _Dick – _know she was seeing someone else unless I'm – _Dick –_ is _spying_ on her – or unless _I'm _Nightwing?!" He covered his face with his hands. "Oh, God. This is bad. This is _very_ bad."

"How bad can it be? I mean – if _Dick _stays away from her, she won't be able to _ask _about it. And all Nightwing has to do is _not _talk about it." Wally put aside his cup of coffee and stood. "Did you see her last night?"

Dick removed his hands from his face. "Yeah."

"And she didn't say anything?"

"No."

"See? She didn't figure it out. She _won't _figure it out. You told me yourself that people see what they want to see, and she does _not _want to see Dick in you – in Nightwing, I mean."

Dick looked at his best friend with skepticism. "You better be right. I don't want to mess this up, Wally."

Wally's face was grim. "I know, Dude. I know. And I'm sorry." He was silent for a long time, then smiled. "I ordered that outdoor grill. It hasn't come in, though."

Dick tried to shake off his anger. It wasn't Wally's fault that he was – Wally. "I guess that means we'll just have to postpone the cookout."

"Yeah. November's probably not the right time to have a barbecue in Gotham, anyway. I still think I'm in California, I guess."

Dick grinned. "Are you kidding me? _Any _time of year is a good time for a barbecue. Maybe we'll have it Thanksgiving weekend."

Wally shrugged. "Can't. Going home for the weekend. And to Roy's."

"Two Thanksgiving dinners, huh? Dream come true for you."

"You know it. Except, of course, the whole _spending time with the in-laws_ thing."

"What? I thought you loved Paula! And, come on – Roy!"

"Yeah, they're great, but – Larry." Wally's face was dismayed.

Dick sighed. "Yeah. Larry. Right."

"I think that he would have been happy if I'd stayed – dead."

"Well, you know what I think about Larry."

"Blow-hard. Criminal. Bully."

"All of those. But you can't escape dealing with him."

"Nope. He's Artemis's father."

"And blood is thicker than water."

"And, apparently, turkey gravy."

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**Later That Afternoon**

Dick desultorily flipped through the channels on the television. After Wally had gone, he had not been interested in going back to sleep, and had thrown himself onto the sofa and had started watching sports without really caring or even knowing what was on the screen.

He was worried – worried that Devon would figure out that he and Nightwing were the same person, and that, when she did, she would be _livid _with him. That she would think that he had deliberately _played_ her, as Jason had predicted.

_Jason_! He had forgotten all about his brother! Where was he? There was, predictably, no trace of him in the living room, where he slept, but there was also no evidence that he had left any of his belongings behind.

Dick pulled out his phone and, after calling up Jason's contact, texted him.

_Hey, bro! Missed you today! Everything good_?

No response came, and Dick frowned at the phone before finally putting it down. Jason was always pretty good at returning texts, and this had Dick worried.

His stomach growled, and he realized that he had not eaten anything – just the coffee with Wally that had turned his stomach sour.

He poured himself a bowl of cereal, and, just as he was adding milk, his text alert sounded.

_**Worried about me, Dickie?**_

Dick smiled and typed his answer. _There was no one to steal the sports section of the newspaper._

Nearly a minute went by before a response appeared.

_**Got an apartment. Moving in today.**_

Dick frowned. So soon? _Wow! That was quick! When are you inviting me over?_

_**Soon.**_

Dick smiled. He was intending to get Jason a set of cookware and a food processor as house-warming gifts to encourage his brother's obvious talent in the kitchen...and to encourage Jason to cook something for him.

_Thanksgiving dinner at 2 PM at the house._

_**I'll be there.**_

_It'll be fun!_

_**Oh, yeah. It will be great. Gotta go. See you Thursday.**_

Dick gave a small smile. He was going to miss Jason, but he was happy that his brother's life seemed to be back on track.

Now, if only he could insure that his own life stayed on track – that Devon suspected _nothing _after her run-in with Wally.

He sighed. Civilian life could be a _huge _pain in the ass sometimes.

So could college life. And, right now, that part of his life was calling him.

He had not forgotten his computer history paper, due Tuesday, but he had been avoiding thinking about it and working on it. However, now was the time to pay the piper. He had to get down to work if he wanted to hand it in on time – and if he wanted a grade above a C.

Today was going to _suck__._

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Late That Night**

Five and a half hours. That was how long Dick had worked on his paper before deciding that he had had enough. He wanted to see Devon. He wanted to see her, and touch her, and kiss her, and feel her around him.

A corner of Dick's mind was concerned that he had fallen for this girl too quickly and too hard, but the rest of him did not think on it. He was acting on instinct and attraction with her, and, for him, it was enough.

So, dressed in his uniform, though he had no intention of patrolling, he drove his motorcycle to Gotham and climbed the tree outside her window and stepped into her room and into the cocoon of her arms.

They made love as they always did – rough and hard and fast, and fell into a tangled heap of legs and beating hearts afterwards, and the tenderness that was missing in their lovemaking found itself alive in an odd courtship that took place as their sated bodies were refreshed by rest.

"Hmm. That was nice." She entwined her fingers with his, and, in the dark, he examined their hands.

"Yes, it was. It always is."

"_Always_. You make it sound like we've been at this for years." She smiled. "It's only been two weeks, you know."

"More than that."

"No. This is November 18th, so..."

"Shit. Really?" He rolled over onto his side to look at her.

"Hard to believe?" She grinned at him.

"Yes. I feel like I've –" he interrupted himself, because he had been about to say, '_loved you forever,_' but recognized, in time, that such a thing would be too – _revealing_. "Known you longer."

"Hmm." She smiled again. "It's been a good two weeks."

He bent forward to kiss her shoulder. "The best."

* * *

**Star City**

**Two Days Later**

**November 20th **

Dick stepped out of the zeta tube and into the warehouse, nervously clutching the duffel bag he carried.

"Hey, Dick! You made it!" Roy came over and extended a hand, which Dick took immediately.

"I didn't know you'd be here to pick me up, Roy." He pulled the archer in for a quick hug.

"As if I'd let you wander around Star City. Too many pretty girls here. You'd get distracted and we'd never see you."

Dick gave a weak smile. "I'm trying to go easy on pretty girls."

Roy's brows arched. "Since when?"

Dick gave an embarrassed smile. "I kind of have one on the hook right now."

"That one you told me about?"

Dick chuckled, and shook his head. "I forgot that I told you about her."

"How does Barbara feel?"

Dick registered surprise. "Barbara and I are – well, we're in a good place right now – as friends. But she doesn't know."

"Hmm." He gave Dick a speculative look.

"Really." Dick asserted. "It's okay."

Roy finally shrugged. "Well, it's your life. If you're happy, that's all that matters."

"Yeah, I – am."

"Good." He pointed towards the door. "I've got the car outside, and Jade and Lian are at home. They can't _wait _to see you."

Dick's own brows rose. "_Jade _can't wait to see me?"

Roy look chagrined. "Well, she hasn't left the city."

"_That's_ a ringing endorsement." They left the warehouse.

Roy's small sedan sat outside, and Dick threw his duffel in beside Lian's car seat in the back seat.

Once on the road, Roy turned briefly to his friend. "So, you _seriously_ want to ask Jade's advice?"

"Kind of. You know that someone's been trying to kill us."

"_Been trying_? No. I knew someone took a shot at _you_. Who's '_us,_' exactly?"

"The Bats."

"Oh. So, what? You want to ask Jade how to dodge or something?"

"No. The assassin is a woman –"

Roy held up a hand. "Whoa. Wait a second. Jade is _not _involved. She's not doing that anymore."

Dick held up his own hands in defense. "I'm not suggesting that. I just thought she _might_ – know who it _might_ be. Or who could have hired her – the assassin, I mean."

Roy shrugged. "She's not going to give up any information easily. She holds her cards close to her chest."

"I'm not asking her to give someone up."

"That's exactly what you're doing. And, look, man, I don't care. I understand – I really do. If someone took a shot at Ollie or Dinah or even Arsenal, I'd be all over them like white on rice, but, if she knows, she – probably won't tell. Especially if her dad's involved."

"You think he might be?"

Roy concentrated on changing lanes. "Hell, I don't know. Larry's – well, Larry is _Larry_. Look, he's not my favorite person in the world, but he's Jade's _dad_, and..." He shook his head. "Good luck to you, is all I've got to say."

"Good luck to me with Jade, or good luck to me if Sportsmaster is involved?"

"Both."

"Well, maybe she can give me a lead." He gave Roy a light tap on the shoulder. "Hey, you guys doing better since she came back?"

Roy gave a slight nod. "Yeah. It's not perfect – not by a long shot, but – we're making progress. We're seeing a marriage counselor – "

"Dinah?"

"Ha! No, but it is someone she recommended. We go twice a week, and it's been – good. So we're working it out. She promises not to take off with Larry again, and I promise to give her space."

"Marriage takes a hell of a lot of work, doesn't it?"

"It's harder than anything else _I've _ever had to do. But it's worth it." he gave Dick a brief look, and a grin. "You'll find that out someday."

"Yeah. That's the goal, anyway."

"So Bruce is seriously going forward with giving up the cowl?"

"Yeah. He just wants to get a couple of cases cleared up."

"Like ID-ing your assassin."

"Yeah."

They pulled up in front of Roy's small house, and Dick had to smile. The front yard was neat, with flower gardens and a large tree with a rope swing on it, and a tricycle in the driveway. It was a far cry from the shabby apartments in Roy's past. And it was a welcome change, in Dick's opinion.

They climbed from the car, and, suddenly, the front door burst open.

"Uncle Dick! Uncle Dick!" Lian came running towards the car, wearing a Robin Hood cap and a Disney princess dress, and clutching a plastic bow and arrow.

Roy smiled at her, and leaned over to Dick. "My princess can kick someone's ass."

"I don't doubt that." The little girl barreled into Dick's legs, and he swung her into the air. "There's my girl!"

"Uncle Dick, we just got back from Disneyland! And do you know who I saw? Guess! Guess!"

"Um, Cinderella?"

"Yes! But not her!"

"Oh, okay. Pocahontas?"

"No, I didn't see her. She was '_on break_.'" She used air quotes, and Roy stifled a laugh.

"So who did you see, then?"

"Stitch! I saw Stitch! He was wearing flowers around his neck, and Mommy says those are special flowers that you can only get in _Hawaii_! And Daddy said we'll go there next year, maybe! But I want to go back to Disneyland because I like Disneyland better than _flowers_!"

Dick gave her a hug. "I think that you should go anywhere you want."

"Will you go with us?"

Dick and Roy exchanged glances. "We'll see." Dick promised. "Now, who wants to see a little present or two that I brought with me?"

"I do! I do!" She excitedly waved her arms, and Dick set her on the ground.

"Dick, you didn't have to." Roy gently remonstrated with his friend.

"As if I'd come see you and not bring a present to my goddaughter."

Roy laughed. "She's spoiled by all her _godfathers_." It was a running joke that Lian had three godfathers – Kaldur, Wally, Dick, and one god_grand_father, Ollie.

"That's the least we can do." He pulled his duffel from the back seat of the car, and extracted two presents from it.

"Oh, Uncle Dick! Thank you! Thank you!" She clapped in glee before taking the packages.

"Let's go inside and open those – not in front of the neighborhood." Roy said in an aside to Dick. "In case there's a domino mask and a utility belt in there."

Dick grinned. "Close."

"Great." Roy's tone belied his words.

Dick picked Lian up and they went inside.

Jade stood at the window, watching them, and her eyes surveyed Dick as he entered. He always felt that Jade was inspecting him, and somehow finding him wanting.

She was a beautiful woman – tall, like her father, but with her mother's delicate features and jet-black hair, and Dick knew why Roy had been attracted to her.

"Hey, Jade." He gave her a tentative smile.

"Dick." She always said his name as if it were a description. She had known his identity for several years, and probably knew Batman's, too, but evidence so far pointed to her keeping it a secret – something for which Dick was very grateful – and very surprised.

"Uncle Dick got me presents, Mommy." She squirmed to get out of Dick's arms, and ran to her mother.

Jade gave Dick a brief look. "Let's open them, baby." She settled down on the sofa with Lian on her lap, and watched as the little girl ripped the packages open.

"Mommy, look, it's a baby!" She bounced up and down as she examined the doll that Dick had brought her.

"It sure is, sweetheart."

It was a baby doll in all its glory, dark-haired, with a cradle and cloth diapers, as well as a bottle and two changes of clothes.

"Yeah!" She jumped off her mother's lap. "Daddy, open it! Open it! I can pretend it's a baby sister!"

Dick gave Roy a wide-eyed look as the archer, red-faced, fumbled for his pocket knife. "She wants a baby sister." Roy confided unnecessarily.

As her father worked on freeing Lian's baby sister, the little girl returned to Jade, who still held the other present. She took it from her mother and ripped it open, as well. "Oh! Mommy! Nunchakus!"

Lian waved around the weapon by one baton, and Jade had to duck out of the way. "Good choice, _Dick_."

Dick gave an embarrassed smile. "I thought I should balance out the doll with something a little more..." He trailed off.

"Lethal?" Jade asked dryly.

Dick gave a small laugh. "Yeah."

Roy shoved the half-opened doll box at Dick, and grabbed the swinging baton before it could make contact with a lamp. "Next time, go for the domino mask, Dickie."

He swung Lian up into his arms. "Uncle Dick will finish liberating your baby sister, and _I_ will take _you _outside and we will play with the nunchakus."

"Okay, Daddy." As Roy carried her away, Lian waved to Dick. "Uncle Dick, hurry and open the box. I don't think my little sister can _breathe_!"

The door banged behind them, and Dick shook his head wistfully. He wanted that someday. "She's incredible." He turned to his project.

Jade gave a small smile. "Yes, she is."

"Roy's a good father." Dick wanted to be a good father, too.

"Yes, he is." She unfolded herself from the sofa and came to supervise Dick's task. "So Roy told me that you wanted to ask my _advice_." She sounded skeptical.

Dick shot her a look, and turned so that his back was not to her. "Yeah."

"So go on, _boy wonder_, ask away."

"Did Roy tell you what's going on with me?"

She shook her head, seeming supremely disinterested. "We don't really talk about you. Sorry to disappoint."

Dick colored. She always made him feel like he was thirteen. "Oh, well, yeah." He cleared his throat. "Someone's been – shooting at me and – other people. In Gotham."

She raised her hands. "Don't look at me."

Dick freed the doll's cradle from its plastic prison. "I'm not. But it's a woman. I thought you might know who it is."

Jade's eyes narrowed. "What does she look like?"

Dick shook his head. "I don't know. I didn't see her face."

Jade put her hands on her hips. "So if you didn't see her face, how do you know it's a woman?"

Dick colored. "Ah, well, I kind of _felt _that she was a woman."

A smile came to Jade's face. "Oh, copping a feel, Dickie?"

He shrugged, and the diapers were free, along with the bottle. "Accidentally. Do you know of any female assassins?"

"And if I did?" She crossed her arms on her chest. "You'd want me to give her up?"

Dick became a little angry. "What? Too much honor among murderers for you to betray?"

"If you want help, you should try not being so _testy_."

"Well, excuse me if I'm _pissed _that someone's trying to kill me."

Jade was silent, observing him. "Get any distinguishing features?"

"Physical? No. Other than she's shorter than me."

"That's not much to go on. What's her weapon?"

"An L115A3."

Jade's eyes widened. "That's a very _specific _and _expensive _gun."

"Know anyone who uses one?"

"No." Her tone was flippant. "But it's a gun that means business. So why aren't you dead?"

"That's what I want to know." He released the doll from all of the twisty ties triumphantly. "Not that I _mind _not being dead, and all, but I want to _stay _that way."

"Like I said, that's a very expensive gun, Dick, so I'd look at _very _wealthy enemies."

"Luthor?"

"Maybe. I doubt it's Mercy, though, if that's what you're thinking." She watched him as he carefully cut the doll outfits out of the plastic.

"No. This assassin seemed to have two flesh and blood arms."

"Hmm." She looked thoughtful as she took the doll's clothes from Dick. "You know, there's a rumor – no evidence that I've ever seen, though – that Talia Al Ghul has a team of _very _covert female operatives."

Dick froze for a moment. "Where did you hear this?"

She shrugged. "Here and there."

"Do you consider the rumor _reliable_?"

"That's the nature of rumors, Dick. They're _never _reliable."

He drew in a deep breath, closed the pocket knife, and handed it to Jade. "Well, if you hear anything, can you let me know?"

"I'm not getting involved. Too many bad things happen to people who go up against Talia."

"And you've got Roy and Lian to think about."

Jade gave a secretive smile and indicated the doll. "And Lian's baby sister, too."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hope you enjoyed another visit with the Harper family, and I hope that I did them justice. They are fun to write for – especially Jade, who is, in many ways, Dick's polar opposite. Unlike Dick, who cares about _everyone_, Jade cares about her family, and only her family, and woe to anyone who tries to harm them! She is also excessively suspicious of everyone's motives, and Dick trusts too easily – which kind of make me wonder how he got to be a superhero!

I also hope that you enjoyed Wally's visit – I like him because his mind goes a mile a minute, and, despite his speed, his body still can't keep up. So, sometimes he sticks his foot in his mouth, like with Devon in the last chapter, and then he has to explain himself, as he did in this chapter with Dick.

Please review this and make me happy!


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: **To those of you who are Christian, happy Easter! To those of you who aren't, happy Sunday and happy spring (except those in the southern hemisphere, which, in that case, happy autumn)! I am actually presenting a DIFFERENT holiday in this chapter, (American) Thanksgiving. The germ of this chapter actually came to me ON Thanksgiving, so it's been in the works for a while...

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. As you MAY have guessed, this is a BONUS chapter - kind of like a surprise Easter egg! ; )

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Thanksgiving**

**November 22nd**

Dick smiled at Damian as the boy finished straightening his neck tie in the hall mirror. "You look so grown up."

"Don't patronize me, Mr. Codependent."

Dick took no umbrage at his words, and chuckled. "Sorry, little D."

Damian's face was dark. "I wish that Father would not force us to dress for dinner."

"It's only once a year, baby bird."

Damian turned slowly to his older brother. "Call me one more diminutive nickname and you will eat turkey through a straw."

Dick's smile widened, and he reached out to smooth Damian's coat lapels. "You going to be this way with Jason?"

Damian's face grew even more thunderous. "It is beyond me why Father insisted upon inviting that psychopath."

"It was my idea."

"Tt. I should have known. Your bleeding heart coddling of that sociopath will get you killed one day."

"Which is he? A psychopath or a sociopath?" Dick was trying to make a point.

"Both."

"Actually, baby – er, _Damian_, what he _is_ is our brother. And we're going to be happy to see him and we are going to be nice and _smile_." Dick demonstrated. "Because it isn't easy for him. He and Bruce had – _have –_ a _very _complicated relationship."

"So why does he want to come _here_ – where he is not welcome?"

"Because he _is _welcome."

"Not by me."

Dick gave Damian a stern look, and, to his credit, Damian looked away. "Fine. I'll be – _nice_."

"Thank you."

The two of them walked together to the family room, where Tim was absently watching the football game and playing with his phone. He, too, was dressed in a button down shirt, tie, and sport coat.

"Who's winning?" Dick indicated the screen.

Tim looked up briefly. "No idea. Florida, I think."

"They're _both _Florida." Dick pointed out.

"Oh." Tim gave the television a distracted look. "Then I don't know."

"Helpful. What are you doing?"

"Texting Cassie."

"Oh, yeah. I was wondering where she was."

"With her mom in Florida. And she told me, _in no uncertain terms_, that I was _not _to zeta down there and surprise her."

"Why not?"

"Her grandparents would have a coronary. _They _still think she's never had a boyfriend."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Tell me. She's not going to be back until _Monday_. Which means I won't get to see her at all."

"That's rough, buddy."

"Long distance relationships _suck_." Tim grumbled.

"My, my, don't you young men look dapper? We should all dress for dinner more often." Alfred's voice was jovial as he stood in the doorway surveying them.

"Thanks, Alfie." Dick smiled at the manservant. "You need any help?"

"No, not at all, Master Dick. The day that I am unable to prepare and serve a seven-course dinner without assistance is the day that I retire."

Dick and Tim looked at each other. "Whatever you say."

"Dinner will be in a half hour. Could you please inform Master Bruce?"

Dick nodded, and the butler was gone.

Damian threw himself down on the sofa, far from Tim, and gave Red Robin a suspicious look.

"Why don't you guys play some CoD?" Dick suggested.

Damian sneered at Tim. "It won't even be a challenge."

Tim's eyes narrowed. "Afraid I'll beat your ass, Oompa-Loompa?"

"Bring it on, Drake. I could start literally beat you with one hand tied behind my back."

"Oh, yeah? Turn on the damn system, pip-squeak."

Leaving his brothers squabbling over the game, Dick went to find Bruce. He ran him to ground in his study.

"I knew I'd find you in the Bruce Cave." Dick unbuttoned his jacket and threw himself into a chair in front of his father's desk. "Alfred said that dinner will be ready in a half-hour."

"Thank you. I've got some new intel on one of the jewelry store robberies." Bruce said without lifting his eyes from his computer.

"Of course you do." Dick muttered under his breath – there was no such thing as a _holiday _for the Bat. "What is it?" He asked more clearly

Bruce moved aside so that Dick could see a photo of a diamond pictured on his screen. "This stone showed up in Antwerp earlier this week."

"It's one of the stolen pieces?"

"Yes."

"How was it identified? I assume the serial number was removed from the girdle."

"Of course. It was identified by its flaws."

"Who was trying to sell it?"

"_Sold_ it. Successfully. No clue as to the true identity. His identification was forged and he got away with the money before the authorities could get there."

"We have a picture?"

Bruce called up a grainy surveillance photo that showed a thin man in a coat and hat. "I suppose that it could be Billy."

"Billy Numerous was a ruse. A red herring. Whomever is behind these thefts is using him to distract us."

"Like the sniper."

"Exactly."

"But if we catch Billy," Dick pointed out, "he may be able to tell us something."

Bruce's brows lifted. "If you would like to attempt to catch him, by all means, then do so. Just don't let it interfere with your studies."

Dick was silent. Chasing someone like Billy Numerous would take _a lot _of time – and time was a commodity Dick had in short supply.

"Perhaps when the semester is over." Bruce answered for him.

"So are you headed off to Antwerp now?"

"If I do go, I'll take Damian with me."

Dick gave a rueful smile. "Did a shitty job babysitting, didn't I?"

"Not at all. But Antwerp is infinitely safer than Afghanistan, and I think that he would enjoy it."

"Oh." Dick's righteous indignation was deflated.

He sat quietly at his father's desk for a moment, watching Bruce type into the computer. "I talked to Jade the other day."

"I assume she was no help."

"Why would you assume that she was no help?"

"Because, had she given you something, you would have come to me already."

"Well, to be perfectly honest, she _did _give me something to think about." Something that had concerned Dick, but something that he had been reluctant to bring to Bruce because he was unsure what his father's reaction would be.

Bruce looked at him sharply. "What? Can she identify the shooter?"

Dick leaned back in the chair. "As to that, no. But she told me something – interesting."

Bruce looked annoyed. "Stop prevaricating, Nightwing, and tell me."

Bruce only called him Nightwing when they were discussing business, and Dick realized that Bruce wanted him to be professional, and not be concerned with what _Bruce Wayne _would say. This was _the Batman_ sitting across from him, not his father.

"She said that she has – heard some rumors that Talia has been employing female operatives. _Several _female operatives."

Batman's face was stone. "So we're back to this being about Talia."

Dick groaned. "Bruce, I don't _want _to sound like a broken record, but _someone _is shooting at us without the intention of killing us, and it _sounds _like Talia's mind games!"

Bruce looked away, and Dick could see a muscle ticking in his jaw. Finally, he nodded. "I'll look into it. I don't think she is involved, though."

Dick felt a huge measure of relief. "Thank you. That's all I wanted – for you to consider it."

"I will."

Just then, the doorbell rang, Titus barked, and Bruce and Dick exchanged looks.

"That'll be Jason." Dick smiled and stood, nervously rebuttoning his sport coat. He felt anxious for Jason. This was the first time that the younger man had been back to the manor since his return, to Dick's knowledge.

"Go greet him, Dick, and tell him that I'll be there soon." Dick's father was back in the room.

"Yeah, sure thing." He turned to go.

"Oh, and Dick?" Bruce waited until his son faced him again. "Thanks for suggesting that we invite him."

Dick gave a quick smile and nod, and went to the foyer, where Jason was being embraced by Alfred.

"It _is_ good to see you, Master Jason."

"You, too, Alfie." Jason's eyes were closed, and Dick felt like an intruder.

Jason's eyes flickered open, and he saw his older brother. "Dickiebird." He released Alfred and stepped into Dick's arms.

"It's good to see you, bro. So glad you came." Dick was astonished at how strong Jason was. He also thought he detected a slight whiff of beer on his brother. It seemed that Jason had been drinking already – probably to gird himself for the meal with his family.

They finally separated, and Jason stepped back to look at the house. "It hasn't changed a bit."

"Nothing ever changes here." Dick smiled.

Jason looked at him pointedly. "Some things do."

"Master Jason, may I take your jacket?" Alfred held out a hand for Jason's leather jacket, and the young man shrugged out of it.

"I didn't know we were dressing for dinner." Jason wore a casual shirt.

"It's okay. No big deal. You know Bruce likes us to pretend we're civilized every once in a while." Dick smiled.

"For some of us it's _definitely _pretend."

Dick gave an uncertain smile. Jason was acting – odd. He couldn't put his finger on it, though. "So, come on to the family room. I left Tim and Damian playing Call of Duty."

"You left them _playing_, not trying to kill each other?"

A look of dismay came over Dick's face. "Yeah. I hope."

He heard sounds of the video game before they reached the room, and Dick gave a silent sigh of relief. He didn't want Jason to see turmoil or strife amongst the brothers – in fact, Dick wanted the day to be as pleasant and _peaceful _as possible, so that Jason might _want _to come back into the family fold.

"Hey, guys! Look who's here."

Tim obediently put the game on hold, eliciting a protest from Damian. He stood and came over to embrace Jason.

"Hey, big bro."

"Hey, little bro."

Dick looked on with approbation.

Damian reluctantly got to his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets, his mouth pulled down.

After Tim stepped away, Jason turned to the youngest Wayne. "Damian."

Damian looked at his feet briefly. "Todd."

The moment stretched tensely, and Dick attempted to alleviate the awkwardness by slapping Jason on the shoulder. "How'd you get here?"

The mood snapped, and Jason turned to Dick with a smile. "Bought a cheap Suzuki Hayabusa."

Dick's eyes widened. "Shit. You're kidding. That is a sweet ride! Does it move?" It was a well-known fact in the Batfamily that Dick was a sucker for motorcycles of all types – but especially fast ones.

"Hell, yes. You want to take it out for a spin?"

"Dude! Yeah!"

The sound of a throat-clearing stopped the two young men in their tracks. Alfred stood a few feet away. "Dinner is served."

Dick's shoulders slumped, and Jason patted him on the back. "Later, Dickie. After all, what's better than riding on a stomach full of turkey and pumpkin pie?"

As they walked to the dining room, Bruce emerged from his study, and Dick felt Jason stiffen beside him.

Bruce drew himself to his full, impressive height. "Hello, Jason." His voice was low, as it always was, but there was a hint of – hesitation – that Dick had not expected to hear.

Jason looked at him without emotion, although Dick could feel tension emanating from him. "Bruce."

They stared at each other until Damian darted between them, and both men stepped back.

Dick led the way into the dining room, where Damian had already claimed a spot at the right side of the table's head, and was looking with avarice at the array of food.

Bruce took a seat at the head, and Dick sat at his left, leaving Jason to sit next to him, and Tim across, with Alfred at the other end.

Even though Alfred was _technically _an employee, he had long since joined the family at the table for holidays and special occasions, when they were _en famille_ – that is, on their own, with no guests.

"It looks incredible, Alfred." Dick smiled as he surveyed the perfectly browned turkey, ready for carving, a mound of pearly white mashed potatoes, three different types of stuffing, homemade cranberry sauce, as well as cranberry sauce from a can (because that was the kind that Dick had grown up with), complete with rings impressed on it from the can, and green bean casserole made from scratch.

"It _smells _incredible." Tim added, and Alfred beamed at the praise from the two.

"Let's dig in." Bruce gave a small smile, and stood to carve the bird.

As he did that, the others began passing around all of the side dishes, until everyone's plates were groaning beneath the weight of the food.

"Master Dick," Alfred smiled at the eldest, "could you please pass around the covered dish by your hand?"

"What is it?" Dick removed the cover to find four more drumsticks within. He laughed, took one, and passed it to Jason, who did the same.

"Alfred, you genius! There's a drumstick for each of us."

Alfred gave a gentle smile. "I knew that all of you boys love the legs."

"Dick is definitely a leg man." Tim teased.

"Ha. A lot you know." Dick gave the younger man a smile. "I've always been a breast man."

"You're an _anything with a pulse_ man." Tim pointed his fork at the eldest Robin.

Alfred spoke up. "I guarantee that the turkey has no pulse."

Jason snickered, and Bruce sought to change the subject. "Dick, would you please pour the wine?"

"No, Master Bruce, I'll do that." Alfred protested as Dick rose.

"Sit, Alfred. I am more than capable of pouring wine." Dick poured a glass for Bruce, Alfred, Jason, and himself. "You know, Alfred," Dick said, slanting a look at the manservant, "Jason is a wonderful cook. He's made me fettuccine Alfredo _and _a delicious broccoli stir fry."

Alfred's brows went up, and he shot a quick look at Bruce, whose face was stoic. "Indeed, Master Jason? How marvelous!"

Jason colored, and drained his wine glass. "It's just me fooling around in the kitchen."

"Fooling around?" Dick continued. "He should be working in a restaurant!"

Damian looked at Jason with an air of superiority. "What else is he qualified for?"

"I can beat you to a bloody pulp." Jason said evenly, putting a mouthful of turkey in his mouth.

"Damian, Jason, enough." Bruce's voice brooked no opposition.

"Sorry, Father." Damian nearly buried his face in his food after directing a glare at Jason.

Jason poured himself another glass of wine without a look at Bruce.

Dick's eyes shifted sideways to his brother, and watched as Jason drained a second glass of wine.

"So, Jase," Tim began, "how's the bodyguarding deal going?"

Jason shrugged, stuffing in his mouth. "Don't know. I quit." He turned to Alfred. "This stuffing is amazing. Oysters in it? I can taste them."

Dick and Bruce both looked at Jason, startled.

"Why?" Dick asked.

Jason shrugged, and mixed gravy into his mashed potatoes. "I was going nowhere fast."

"Are you going there _faster _now?" Bruce's stare was as cold as flint.

Jason shoveled an enormous forkful of potatoes in his mouth. "What does it matter?" He poured the dregs of the wine bottle into his glass while he chewed.

"It matters because you need to do something with your life."

Jason gave a bark of laughter, and some of the food in his mouth ended up on the tablecloth. "_My _life? Is it _my _life now?"

"Uh, maybe you can go to culinary school." Dick offered lamely.

"Thanks, Dickie, but I don't think anyone wants me near butcher's knives right now." He stuffed a large piece of bread into his mouth.

"How will you afford your new apartment, Jason, now that you're unemployed?" Bruce asked.

"Always _so _well-informed, Bruce. I don't know how I'm going to afford it. How does _Dick_ afford his? Or Tim, in his swanky new digs in Princeton?"

"It's not _swanky_!" Tim protested, but Bruce ignored him, watching Jason as the young man finished his third glass of wine.

"I pay for them because _they _are in college. Something that you could have done, as well."

"You mean if I let _you _control my life. I tried that, remember?"

"Bruce, Jason, _come on_." Dick didn't like the note of pleading in his own voice. "It's Thanksgiving."

"Thanksgiving! That's right!" Jason threw his hands up in the air. "Let's go around the room and all say what we're _thankful_ for! I'll start!" He cleared his throat.

"Master Jason..." Alfred, who had been quiet, reached out a hand to one of the few people, in the world, that he loved.

"No, Alfred, let him speak." Bruce held up his hand.

"Well, giving me _permission _to _speak_! How I have missed your autocratic rule!" Jason took Dick's untouched wine and drank in down in one long gulp.

"Does that give you _courage_, Jason?" Bruce's voice was bitter.

Jason slammed the glass down. "I don't need it. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, _Things I am Thankful For_, by Jason Peter Todd _Wayne_. I am grateful for this delicious meal. It _really _is fantastic, Alfred. The meat is _so _tender. It just falls off the bone."

Dick noticed a manic edge to his brother's voice. "Jason..." he began.

"Right! I am thankful for my _brother_, Dick, who invited me to this _wonderful _family meal."

Dick lapsed into silence.

"Nothing else to say, Dickie? Usually we can't get you to shut up. No? Oh, well. Let's see. What else am I thankful for? Oh, yes. I can't forget this. Can I have that?" Without waiting for an answer, he snatched Alfred's full wine glass and held it up in a mockery of a toast.

"You're drunk and loutish, Todd." Damian, tired of remaining silent, spat at him.

Jason pointed at him. "Don't worry, little worm. I'm getting to you." He turned back to Bruce. "Here is to what I am _most _thankful for. My _father_! Bruce Wayne, father of the year! Father of _every_ year! The man who left me in a warehouse, beaten _mostly _to death –"

Bruce surged to his feet. "_That's __**enough**_."

"You would _think _it would be enough – but then you let the warehouse blow up, too!"

Now Dick stood. "Jason, stop!"

Jason rounded on him. "It's your turn now, Dickie! Tell all of us what _you're _grateful for."

"Jason..." Dick's voice was thick with warning.

"Shy?" Jason clapped him on the shoulder in a mocking manner. "Let me help." He downed Alfred's glass of wine. "How much has Dickie told you about his _personal _life lately?"

"Oh, Jason, no." Dick shook his head. "Please don't."

"Why not? Don't be _bashful_!" He turned to Bruce, who was watching him through narrowed eyes. "Dick met a _gorgeous _girl. You should see her! She's got a slamming body. Big tits, great ass, long legs – you'd really like her, Bruce. She's your type." He bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. "Dick blows off patrolling almost every night to go bang her."

Damian stood now and turned to Dick. "Is that where you've been going? To have _sexual relations _with a woman? She lives over that diner, doesn't she?"

"Damian..." Now Dick was pleading with his youngest brother for understanding.

"You _ditched_ me for _three_ nights in a row to have sex – with a woman!"

"Would it have been okay if it had been a man, Damian?" Jason asked gleefully.

Dick's hands clenched. "Shut _up_, Jason."

Jason seemed beyond reason. "Dickie _met_ her on the job, and he was _spying _on her, watching her in her bedroom." He laughed. "But she caught him! She caught _your _boy wonder outside her window! And now, the best part – you'll _love _this, Bruce – is that he has _sex _with her as _Nightwing_! She's never even seen him without his mask!"

"He what?" Bruce's face was mottled. "Dick, have you _lost _your mind?"

Jason, having finished causing havoc with Dick, turned to Tim. "What about you, Timmy? What are you thankful for? The fact that Bruce hasn't found out that you're flunking out of Princeton, or that he hasn't found out you've been swinging as Red Robin there? Or maybe that Cassie zeta's there a couple of times a week so you two can have sex?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed at Tim as that young man sputtered.

Without waiting for Bruce to respond, Jason continued. "And what about _you_, Bruce? What are _you _grateful for? Your prodigal son? Which one?"

Damian could stand no more. "Shut up! Shut up, Todd! No one is interested in your _drunken _ramblings."

"Ah, _Damian_. Tell me, what are _you _thankful for? Your mother? I know that _I _am."

"What? What are you talking about?" Damian face screwed up in confusion.

"Jason, _shut up_." This came from a snarling Bruce.

Jason laughed at provoking his father. "I know what you're thankful for, Bruce. _You're _thankful that your _precious _baby bird hasn't figured out your plans yet."

"Plans?" Damian looked between Jason and Bruce. "What plans? Father, to what plans is he referring?" When Bruce was silent, Damian walked over to him. "_What plans_?" When his father remained silent, he turned to Jason. "What plans?" He fisted his small hands.

Dick felt a chill run down his entire body. _No_! _Damian can't find out about it this way_!

"Dami, come on." He walked over to his youngest brother, and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Let's go."

Damian shrugged Dick's hand off. "No. I wish to hear what _Todd _has to say."

"Yes, let him hear it, _Dick_." Jason sneered. "He has a right to know. Everyone else knows, after all."

Dick turned to his brother. "Jason, why are you doing this?"

Jason looked at his brother blankly. "Because we all deserve the truth."

"And what is this _truth_?" Damian spat.

Jason folded his arms and smiled smugly. "Tell him, Bruce."

Damian swiveled between Jason and his father, while Dick watched in growing horror. "Tell me _what_?"

Bruce sighed. "Damian, I didn't want it to be like this."

"Tell me!" Damian stomped his foot.

Jason answered for his father. "He wants to stop being Batman. And that means there won't _be _a Robin." Jason sounded jubilant.

Damian's jaw dropped, and he looked from Jason to Dick to Bruce. "F – father? Is that true?"

Bruce was long in responding. "It is true – that I want to – stop. That I want something more for you. For – us." He put his hands on the boy's shoulders.

Damian's face became horrified. "How can you mean that?"

"There are other things to do with our lives."

"No." Damian shook his head. "I want _this_. I chose you. I chose _this_. You can't take it away from me. You _can't_."

"Damian, we don't need to talk about this now."

"When should we talk about this? When is it _my_ turn to talk about it? You _obviously _told Grayson and _Drake_ and_ Todd _before you told _me_ – your _actual _son!"

"Damian, it's not like that."

His youngest son yanked himself from his father's grasp. "Then what is it like, _Father_?" He ran from the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence he left behind.

Bruce allowed his head to drop for a moment before turning to Jason. "Jason..." His voice was dangerous.

Jason, whose face was wreathed in misery, shook his head. "Don't, Bruce. Just – don't."

"Why did you do this?" Bruce's voice was murderous.

Jason's expression showed disbelief and outrage. "Why? _Why_? How many times do we have to _discuss _this, Bruce? You know what happened to me!"

Bruce's hands fisted. "And I am _sorry_! God Almighty, I am _more _sorry for that than _anything_ else in my life! _Anything_!"

"I know you are! I know! And _that's _not even why I'm angry with you! And the fact is that you _still _can't understand that!"

"Then _what_ is it?" Bruce fisted both his hands.

"_Because you want to put away Batman_! You want to quit!"

"I – I don't understand." Bruce seemed deflated.

"Yes! I know! That's your problem, Bruce! It's _always_ been your problem! I _died_ for you! I died _because_ I was Robin! Because you're _Batman_! And now you're going to throw that all away? Now? Because someone took a pot shot at the golden child?" He indicated Dick bitterly. "Because you want a _better _life – a _safer _life – for _Damian_? You wouldn't do it for me, but – but," his shoulders slumped, his ire gone, "you'd do it for Dick. For Tim. For Damian. But not for me."

Bruce opened his mouth and shut it again. Jason was right, and Bruce knew that he was right.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said simply.

"Yeah. So am I." Jason turned to Alfred. "Thanks, Alfred, for the dinner. It really was delicious. Dick," he nodded at his oldest brother. "I know you just wanted us to have a _normal _Thanksgiving. But _nothing _that we do is normal."

Silence fell, and Jason walked from the room slowly, followed by Alfred, leaving his family dumbfounded, standing around an abandoned table. Soon the sound of a motorcycle's engine was heard.

Alfred returned quickly, and Bruce turned to him. "Were you able to place the tracker on him?"

"Yes, Master Bruce. In his jacket."

Bruce nodded. "Good. Keep an eye on him, Alfred." He sighed. "And Damian." He scratched his head. "Find him, please."

"Bruce, I can go." Dick offered.

Bruce looked at him with shadowed eyes. "Thank you, Dick. He'll listen to you."

Dick nodded.

"Besides, I don't think he wants to see me right now. And – I wouldn't know what to say to him."

"If you're looking for Master Damian, may I suggest the cemetery?" Alfred supplied.

Dick began to leave, but his father's voice stopped him. "You and I _will _talk, Dick. Make no mistake." He pointed at Tim. "In my study. Now."

He turned and left the room without waiting to see whether his third son followed.

Tim looked at Dick. "This won't be pleasant."

* * *

As predicted, Dick ran Damian to ground in the cemetery, sitting with Titus on a tree root, ripping grass from the ground and shredding it before tossing it away.

Dick came up beside him, hands in his pockets. "Mind if I sit down?"

Damian shook his head. "Go ahead."

Dick settled next to him, and they sat in silence for several minutes. Dick finally spoke. "So. Tough day today, huh?"

Damian gave him a withering look. "Don't patronize me."

"Sorry. I didn't – mean to."

The lapsed into silence again, and Dick absently stroked Titus's ears. "You know," he nudged Damian's knee with his own, "when I was a little kid, not much younger than you, I found a baby robin that had fallen from the nest."

"How thrilling." Damian's voice sounded disinterested, although his next question belied that. "What happened?"

Dick gave a sad smile. "It died. I buried it under this tree. Probably right where we're sitting."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Dick shrugged. "Because we're sitting here, I guess."

"Oh." Damian snapped his fingers, and Titus left Dick's side and nuzzled his master.

Dick looked at his brother. "Bruce didn't want to tell you about putting Batman away."

"Why is he doing this?" Damian burst out. "Why? Doesn't he know what I gave up for him? For _this_? I left my _mother _to be here, because I believed in _this_, in Batman – and _Robin_! And now he wants to take it all _away_!"

"Oh, Dami, he's only doing it because he loves you – because he loves all of us."

"He says that, but he didn't ask what _we _want!" Damian thumped his chest. "Isn't love taking the other person's desires into account?"

Dick blinked. "Wow. That was – astute."

"I'm not an idiot, Grayson. I know what it means to love someone. It means you have to let them make their own decisions."

Dick shook his head. "It's different for parents. They can't always give us what we want. They have to do what's _best _for us. Or at least the good ones do. Or at least _try _to do."

"And you think that giving up being Bats is what's best for us?" Damian asked incredulously.

Dick took a deep breath and looked out over the grounds of Wayne Manor – over the graves of Thomas & Martha Wayne, whose murders had started it all, out over the rolling grounds that concealed the labyrinthine caves below, and out at the house itself, strong and proud, like its residents.

"Yes, I do." He looked at his brother, who Dick loved more than anyone else in the world. "I really do."

"So you're willing to give it all up?" Damian leaned forward and hugged Titus's neck.

Dick nodded. "Yeah. I will. Oh, don't get me wrong – when Bruce told me, I was _dead _set against it. I want to be Nightwing forever. I really do. But I want a life, too. A _normal _life. I don't want to die at the hands of the Joker, or your mother, or Scarecrow. I want to get married, and have kids, and spent a _hundred _more Thanksgivings with you. Just not a hundred more like today." He gave a rueful smile.

Damian gave a snort of laughter. "Today was horrible. Why did Todd ruin it?"

Dick shook his head. "He's miserable, Dami. You know what happened to him, and he's hurting because – well, because Bruce wouldn't give up being Batman then."

"But he wants to give it up now." There was a not of dawning realization in Damian's voice.

"And that's what hurts. Jason feels like _he _wasn't important enough for Bruce to give up the life, but that we – that _you_ – are."

Damian sighed. "I want to be Robin. From the _second _that Mother told me who my father was, all I wanted was to be Robin."

"Did you want to be Robin, or did you want to be with your father?"

Damian shrugged. "To be with Father, I guess."

"And you can be. You will be. You _are_. Just because there won't be any _Batman and Robin _doesn't mean that there won't be any _Bruce and Damian_."

"Or any Richard and Damian." Damian gave Dick a hopeful smile.

Dick put his arm around his brother's shoulders. "You bet. You and I are in this for the long haul, baby bird."

"If I'm not Robin anymore, you can't call me _baby bird_ anymore."

"Not on your life, baby bird. You're _my _baby bird, and you always will be." He squeezed Damian close to him.

Damian gave him a look of disgust. "Why do you always have to ruin everything?"

Dick laughed.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, hopefully, Thanksgiving in your household isn't as fraught with tension as in Wayne Manor.

Also, for those of you who are familiar with Jason Todd in the comics, you will know that, in some continuities (primarily in "Red Hood: The Lost Days" - an AMAZING six comic arc, by the way, that you should seek out on - the art is THE BEST of any Batman comic – and THAT is saying something), he had an affair with Talia Al Ghul, Damian's mother, and hence the "I'm thankful for your mother" comment to Damian. I kind of hijacked that fact for this story, although I doubt that it would EVER be in Young Justice's continuity.

Also, those fans of "Under the Red Hood" will recognize Bruce's epithet of "God Almighty" as the same words he used when talking to Jason about his own reaction to Jason's death. There is a lot of misunderstanding between Jason & Bruce – while Bruce still thinks that Jason resents Bruce _not _killing the Joker after Jason's death, in this case, Jason is actually angry about feeling less "important" to Bruce than the other Robins.

For those of you who have read my short fanfic, "Baby Bird," you will recognize that Dick references the event that began that fic. It doesn't mean that these two fics are in the same continuity, but I see no reason why that event couldn't be. I like to wrap things together neatly...

P.S. I stole a line from Zuko for Dick. When Tim confesses that he and Cassie wouldn't get to see each other during Thanksgiving, Dick says, "that's rough, buddy," which is what Zuko said to Sokka when Sokka told him about Yue turning into the moon.

In the next chapter, we will see the fallout from all of Jason's revelations. By the way, Jason is BY NO means, gone from the fic. He will return - after his havoc has had a chance to wash over his family!

PLEASE REVIEW AND SHOW ME YOU ARE HAPPY FOR A BONUS CHAPTER!


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note: **Kind of a strong "T" in this chapter, and ONE use of the "f" word. I tried to avoid using it, but there seemed to be no other adequate substitute.

* * *

**Star City**

**Thanksgiving Night**

**November 22nd**

Jade watched with fondness as Paula, her mother, sat with Lian by the window in the house that Jade and Roy shared, and, for the first time in a long time, felt a measure of peace.

The restlessness that so often disturbed her mind was at bay, her family was surrounding her, and she and Roy were – good.

Very good. So good, in fact, that Jade was ready to take the next step in life – a step that she had not even dreamed possible, but that had taken her by surprise – by marvelous, wonderful surprise.

The only discordant note left in her life sat on a sofa in the family room watching football with Roy. A six-and-a-half foot mass of strife with blond hair and a bad attitude. Who was probably, even now, plotting a whole world of hurt for Roy, and, by extension, her and Lian. And Paula. And Artemis. And Wally.

Jade pushed off the doorjamb where she had been leaning. "Dinner's ready!"

"About time." Larry grumbled, and Jade wanted to throw the wooden spoon she held at his head.

Roy jumped up with alacrity and came over to his wife, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "It smells delicious. Aren't we waiting for Artemis and Wally?"

She smiled and straightened the shirt on his broad shoulders. _God, he's sexy_, she thought, and felt the familiar tug at her loins. "They'll get here. Wally knows there's free food. He'll be here."

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it. You help your mom with Lian."

Jade nodded and watched Roy's butt in his jeans as he walked away from her. She wondered again how she had been so lucky to get him; he was so damn good – in every way.

"Faster, Grandma!" Lian was bouncing up and down on Paula's knee as the older woman was wheeling her way to the dining room, and Jade moved to grab her daughter, but Larry got there first.

"I'll get her." He said gruffly. "Just get the food on the table, little girl."

"Thanks, Dad."

Paul cracked a small smile at her ex-husband and followed her daughter. "I'll help, Jade. After all, I can hold a lot on this chair."

"Okay, Mom. Thanks."

Although Paula had some trouble maneuvering into the kitchen, she was able to take the basket of rolls as well as the gravy and the cranberry. "I knew this chair was good for something." She smiled.

Jade followed her, a platter of turkey in her hands.

"I smell turkey!" Wally's voice preceded him.

Artemis and Wally stood in the dining room, Artemis with Lian in her arms.

"Wally, you can smell turkey five miles away! Honestly." Artemis rolled her eyes as she kissed her mother and moved to Jade. "Larry behaving?" She asked, for Jade's ears only.

"He hasn't shot anyone." Jade and her sister exchanged kisses.

Artemis pulled back, a smile on her face. "Give him time."

"Hey, Jade." Wally came over and kissed his soon-to-be sister-in-law, and showed her a bottle of wine. "North Florida wine – white."

Her eyes slid to Roy, who suppressed a smile. "G – reat, Wally. Thanks."

Wally smiled in satisfaction, and set the bottle in the middle of the table with a flourish.

Roy clapped him on the shoulder. "You made good time from Central City."

"Yeah, well, zeta'd. You know."

"Did you eat a lot at your mom's?"

"Ah, well, actually, it was at the Garricks. And yeah, Joan makes a _mean _pumpkin pie." He turned to Jade. "But don't worry! I left room for dinner here."

"I never worry about you not eating enough, Wally." Her tone was dry.

He gave her a thumbs up, and turned – right into Larry, and stopped short. "Larry." He said, and his voice dropped a manly octave.

"West." Larry's tone was clipped.

"Dad!" Artemis called from the other room, where she had gone with Lian. "Could you please come get Lian's high chair?"

"She is _not _still using that, is she?" Paula asked.

"Last time, Mom. We don't have enough chairs otherwise." Jade explained.

"Let her be, Paula. She's only this age once." Larry chided.

"Dad! Any day now!" Artemis called.

Larry knew a distraction when he heard one, but was willing to let himself be distracted. He walked from the room with a glare at Wally, and the younger man moved to kiss Paula.

"As gorgeous as usual, Paula. Did you get your hair cut? It looks great!" Wally smiled at the woman in the wheelchair.

"Oh, Wally. Stop!" Paula gave him a gentle slap on the arm, but it was obvious that she was pleased.

"Here comes the train!" Larry's booming voice came from down the hall, accompanied by the squeals of his granddaughter as he pushed the high chair into the dining room.

"Lawrence!" Paula's sharp voice brought him to a halt, although Lian kept squealing her pleasure.

"What?" Her ex-husband's voice was plaintive.

"That is much too dangerous! Roll that chair in _slowly_."

Roy and Jade again exchanged looks; they were both glad that Paula had called a halt to the shenanigans so that they didn't have to.

Wally, staring wide-eyed at his future in-laws, cleared his throat. "I'll just – get the food." He hurried into the kitchen.

"Me, too." Artemis followed her fiancé.

Wally picked up a large bowl of mashed potatoes, as well as a bowl of yams, the butter dish, and the green bean casserole.

"Whoa, there, babe." Artemis took the casserole and the butter. "Don't be in such a rush."

"Ha. You're funny."

She put the dishes back down, did the same with Wally's, and hooked her arms around his neck. "_We _have the rest of our _very _long lives together."

"Yeah, _now _we do."

"Thanks to the Team."

"Thanks to _you_." He corrected.

She shrugged. "I was _motivated_."

They heard a crash from the dining room, and Artemis grimaced.

"Even though, on days like this, I kind of wish I could have stayed dead."

"_Wally_!" Her face and voice were aghast, and she dropped her arms.

He lifted his hands in defeat. "Kidding. Kidding."

They retrieved the serving dishes, and, by the time they entered the dining room, Roy had nearly finished picking up the drinking glass that Lian had swept from the table.

"The food looks good, Jade." Larry said grudgingly as he settled down next to Paula.

"Thanks, Dad." Jade was genuinely pleased. "I hope that it tastes good."

"Yeah, well, me, too. I'd hate to have to go to Burger King later."

Roy, who had returned from throwing away the broken glass, coughed into his sleeve, trying and failing to quash a laugh, and Jade shot him a dark look as he took a seat. He hurriedly grabbed a roll, ripped it apart, and shoved a piece into his mouth. "It tastes great, Chesh." He said around a wad of food.

"Thank you, Roy." She turned to the rest of her family. "Let's dig in."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Thanksgiving Night**

**November 22nd**

Damian and Dick walked back to the house, and Dick sent his little brother to the kitchen to gorge himself on pumpkin pie under Alfred's solicitous eye.

He then turned his mind to more pressing matters – namely Jason and Bruce. He was concerned about Jason because it was apparent that his brother had been deeply hurt by what he thought was favoritism and insensitivity on Bruce's part. As far as Jason was concerned, Bruce had only decided against continuing on as Batman _after _the other Robins had been threatened – Jason's treatment at the hands of the Joker had not been the final straw.

Dick could see how Jason might believe that, but _he _knew that Bruce's reaction was a culmination of _all _the things that had happened to them over the years. This incident was the catalyst, true, but Bruce was quitting not only because of the sniper, but _because_ of what had happened to Jason.

Dick walked into the darkened family room and stopped short at the sight of Tim sitting on the sofa. "Shit. You scared me. What are you doing sitting in the dark?"

"Reflecting on the errors of my ways."

Dick sat down next to him. "What happened?"

"In Princeton or in Bruce's study?"

"Both, I guess."

Tim sighed. "You know how I said that I'm okay with _not _being Red Robin?"

"Yeah."

"Well, apparently, I was wrong."

Dick frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that – I've been going out every night. Foiling muggings, stopping car thefts – caught an arsonist."

"And Bruce didn't know?"

"Nope. I don't know _how _he didn't know. He used to know what I ate for breakfast in the residence hall, for pity's sake."

"And what about flunking out?"

Tim shrugged. "When you go to Princeton, you _kind of _have to do homework."

"And you haven't been."

Tim shook his head.

"And Cassie?"

Tim gave him a withering look. "Dude, I'm _eighteen_. I have certain – needs."

"Don't we all? Have you been careful?"

"Of course."

"Good. Because I don't think Bruce would like to be a grandfather just yet."

"Yeah. And I think it would kind of hard for Cassie to be Wonder_girl _with a baby on her back."

"No kidding. Is Bruce going to talk to Diana – or Cassie's mom?"

"No. Thank God. But I told him I'd talk to Cassie about telling them."

"Better Cassie than you."

"Yeah. Tell me about it. I am _not _going to Wonder Woman about this."

"And how did Jason find out all this?"

"I told him."

Although Dick was rather hurt by Tim's admission that he had confided in Jason rather than himself, he pushed his hurt feelings aside. "When?"

"He was in Jersey a couple of weeks ago for his job and he called me, and we hung out. _And _Cassie happened to show up."

"Oh." Dick looked into the dark, wondering _why_ Tim hadn't confided in him. There was a time when his brother would have told him everything. That time, it seemed, was in the past. "So what are you going to do?"

"About school? Go in on Monday and ask three of my professors for an incomplete and then work like hell over Christmas break." He sighed again. "So that means I won't come home until Christmas Eve, go back the day after, and come back for New Year's. Cassie's going to be pissed. We were supposed to go skiing with her mom. Of course, maybe now her mom won't want me anywhere near Cassie."

"So no vacation for you?"

"Not so much."

"And Red Robin?"

"Hang it up. For good, this time. Although Bruce said that I can swing while I'm here – until he's ready to shut operations down."

"I'm sorry, bro."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. It is _totally _mine."

"Still, I don't like you to have a hard time of it."

"Thanks, Dick." He slapped his brother on the thigh and stood up. "Although I should be sympathizing with you."

Dick's brows raised. "Why?"

"Because Bruce is _a lot _more pissed at you than me."

Dick ran his hands through his hair. "Shit."

"And he told me to tell you to go talk to him when you came back."

Dick grimaced. "Can you pretend you didn't see me?"

Tim shook his head in sympathy. "Wouldn't matter if I did. You _know _you're going to have to talk to him sooner or later, and you also know it's best not to let him stew."

Dick sighed and stood up. "Yeah, you're right."

"Good luck."

"Thanks. I think I'm gonna need it."

Dick waited until Tim had gone, and then reluctantly dragged himself to his father's office. He didn't want to go in. In fact, there was _nothing _that he wanted to do less than face Bruce, but he knew that he had to.

He knocked at the closed door, and was rewarded with an invitation to enter. Opening the door slowly, he peered in.

"Come in, Dick."

He did as he was bade, closed the door, and stopped just inside, rocking on his heels.

"We need to talk." Bruce's voice was icy.

"Yeah, I know." He approached the desk, where Bruce sat. "Have you heard from Jason?"

"No. And I won't. He'll disappear again."

"I can look for him."

"Not tonight. How is Damian?"

Dick shrugged. "We talked. I think he – understands. He's not happy, but he understands."

"I messed up on this one, Dick."

Dick blinked. The Batman did not admit mistakes.

But maybe _Bruce Wayne _did. "We've all kind of messed up recently."

"I'm glad you agree." He indicated that Dick should sit, and his son obeyed. "What the hell are you thinking, Dick? What have you gotten yourself involved in?"

Dick closed his eyes and sighed. "I – don't know. I'm – involved, yes. I'm _very _involved."

"This is the girl you were doing a background check on online, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He could only look at his father briefly before shame forced his eyes into his lap, where his hands were clasped.

"Do you _understand _what you're doing? Do you understand the _risk _you're taking? The danger you are putting yourself in? The danger you're putting _us _in?"

"_You _are not at risk. Neither is Damian."

"The _hell _we're not! And you were _watching _her – _spying _on her? A woman you _saved _from danger?"

Dick held up a finger. "Technically I arrived at the scene _after _the crime had taken place. She subdued the guy herself."

"That doesn't make a difference! This is _you_ – Nightwing – taking advantage of the situation! Taking advantage of the public trust..."

"_The public trust_? I'm not _sleeping _with the public! She's just one person!"

"Dick, it doesn't make a difference! _We_ – all of us – are held to a very high standard – higher than the police force, and we cannot be seen as violating the boundaries!"

"Who the _hell _is going to _see_ us, Bruce? I don't screw her on the sidewalk in my uniform! This is between her and me! And _only_ the two of us."

"But it's not between the two of you, _is _it, Dick? It's between the _three _of you – this girl, _Dick_, and _Nightwing_! You are not _fairly_ representing yourself to her. If you're _not _telling her who you really are, you're lying to her!"

"I am _not _lying to her. She agreed, back when we became involved, that _my _identity was going to stay secret. She _agreed_ to it, Bruce."

"I don't give a damn if she agreed to let you dress up as _Santa Claus_! _You _are taking advantage of her!"

"I am not! It's _consensual_!"

"It's wrong! It's wrong, and you _know _that it's wrong!"

"_You're _the one who told me to sleep with her!"

"Not as _Nightwing_, for God's sake! If she finds out –"

"She won't!"

Bruce held up both hands. "I am not going to argue with you about this. This is _dangerous_ to _us _and to _her, _and _ill-befitting _our mission!"

Dick's face twisted in anger. "Oh, you mean the _mission _that you're giving up?"

"That's right! That _we're _giving up! And what are you going to do then? What mask are you going to hide behind?"

Dick opened his mouth to respond, but closed it. _What _would he do about Devon once he had hung up his Nightwing gear? He wanted to move past being Nightwing with her – he wanted a _real _life with her, but how could he do that – after all that had happened? How could he go from being _Nightwing _to just being _Dick_?

"So you have no answer, do you?" When Dick didn't answer, Bruce continued. "You need to break it off with her now – before either of you gets hurt. And I mean that both _literally _and _emotionally_."

"What?!" Dick was outraged. "No! I'm not going to stop seeing her!"

"Yes, you are. It's dangerous and irresponsible, and _foolhardy_."

Dick stood. "I don't care. And I don't care what you say – or think, Bruce. I am _not _giving her up."

Bruce stood up in response. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm _not_. I'm not ten years old anymore, Bruce. You can't order me around. I _love _this girl, and I _am_ going to continue to see her." He realized, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his miscalculation in revealing his feelings.

"_Love_? How can you _love_ her? You don't even _know_ her! And _she _wouldn't even be able to pick you out in a crowd!" At Dick's mulish look, he pressed on. "Whatever you're feeling for her, Dick, it's not love. Lust, yes. Infatuation. Obsession. I don't know. But it's _not _love."

"How the hell do you know?" Dick's face was dark, and his hands were fisted at his side.

"Because you _can't _base a relationship on _lies_. Believe me – I know."

"Well, forgive me if I don't take romantic advice from a stunted Narcissist!"

Bruce pointed at him. "This will end badly, Dick, if you _don't _end it now."

"Or maybe it won't end at all." He knew that what he was asserting was impossible, but he didn't care. He loved Devon, and he was _never _going to give her up. Not for Bruce – not for _anyone_.

"You're deluding yourself." Bruce's face was severe.

Dick drew himself up stiffly. "Well, I won't be the only one in this family deluding himself."

He turned and left the study, leaving Bruce staring after him with anger and sadness in his eyes.

* * *

**Star City**

**Later That Night**

**November 22nd**

Wally flopped on the sofa, and unbuckled his belt. "That was good." He lifted a hand to Artemis as she settled next to him.

"You sure ate enough." She laid her head on his shoulder.

"It was a compliment to the chef." He defended himself as Jade and Roy, Lian in his arms, joined them in the family room.

"Among other things." Roy smiled as he sat on the other side of Artemis, Lian on his lap.

"Yeah, it was a lot better than I thought it would be, girly." Larry appeared in the doorway, a toothpick in his mouth.

"Wow, Dad." Artemis frowned. "I doubt Jade can take such _effusive _praise."

Larry looked at his youngest daughter as if she had two heads. "_Effusive_? That one of your _Stanford _words?"

"Well, it's in English. Even _I _know that, and English is _my_ second language." Paula pushed him forward with her wheelchair, and he was propelled into the room.

He looked miffed. "Whatever. _I've_ survived all these years without knowing words like _effusive_, and I've done well enough."

Jade and Artemis looked at one another.

"Speaking of your _survival_, Dad, can I _talk _to you?" Jade grabbed his arm as he was about to sit in an easy chair, and he reluctantly stopped his descent.

"Can't this wait? I want to see the highlights of the Florida game." He pointed at the television.

"In a couple of minutes." She was firm, and, with a groan, he straightened.

Roy watched his wife and her father with anxious eyes, and she winked at him, setting him at ease, and he turned to his sister-in-law. "So, Artemis, Wally told me about this _hope chest _he got you. Real cedar wood."

"Yeah. It's just like the one Grandma Crock had. Remember that, Jade?"

Jade nodded as Larry led the way from the room. "Of course. We spent a lot of time sitting on that, reading."

Artemis laughed, and called after her father. "Remember reading, Dad? You still know how to do that?"

"Funny, funny, baby girl!" Larry grumbled as Jade directed him out onto the porch.

Although it was dark outside, Star City's temperate climate did not require them to wear jackets, and Larry leaned comfortably on the balustrade.

"What's this about, Jade?"

She took up a spot on the opposite railing and folded her arms over her chest. "I had a _very _interesting piece of information come my way this week."

He looked interested. "Oh, yeah? What is it? A new score?"

She looked down at her feet briefly. "No. And you know I'm not interested in that anymore."

"Give yourself time."

"No, I _won't_ give myself time, because _that_ life is over. I'm married to Roy, and I'm going straight. This time. For good."

"You sound like you are trying to convince yourself."

"I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything. I'm trying to talk to you about _your _little gig."

His brows rose. "_My _gig? Which one?"

"The one that requires the use of assassins."

He shrugged. "Gotta be more specific."

"A female assassin and an L115A3."

To his credit, Larry betrayed himself with nothing more than the fluttering of his lids, but, to Jade, who knew him very well, it was enough.

She exploded off the banister and stomped away. "Damn it, Crusher!"

"Why do you think it's me?"

"Really? A female assassin? The gun? Both _you_! I know it!"

"Oh, come on! You don't know it's me!"

"What ever happened to that girl you were training – the one you were _handling_, hmm? Where is she? Haven't heard about her in a while." He was mulishly quiet, and she slapped the porch support beam. "It _is_ you!"

"So what? No one's shooting at _you_!"

She turned to him, her arms flung out. "No! She's just shooting at _Batman's _boys."

Now Larry stood. "Who told you all this?"

Jade's eyes narrowed. "Someone in the _know_."

"Yeah, well, what else does this person _know_?"

"I've haven't the faintest idea, but _I_ know something." She poked him in the chest. "If this comes _close _to me –"

"How will it come close to _you_?"

"If it impacts _Roy _in any way, in any way _whatsoever_, you will regret it."

His face slackened into derision. "_Really_? And what are _you_ going to do to _me_?"

She crossed her arms triumphantly. "Make sure you never see your grandchildren _ever_ again."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

**November 22nd**

Dick left the manor without saying good-bye to anyone. Although he knew it was cowardly to just duck out, he didn't think that he could trust himself to act as if all was well with the world.

As he sped away in the car, he thought of _everything _that had gone wrong, and he sighed. What a shitty, shitty Thanksgiving. He hadn't even gotten to finish his meal or eat any of Alfred's pumpkin pie.

And now he had nowhere to go except home to his empty apartment. And what about Jason? Where would he go? Was he at _his_ new apartment? Or had it been a lie – a ruse just to get away from his family?

"Damn it. Damn it. Damn it." Dick hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. He pulled off the road and took his phone from his pocket.

He stared at Jason's contact for a long time before calling, but there was, predictably, no answer. He tried texting him.

_Jason, bro, I called you but there was no answer. Is everything okay?_

There was no response, so he sent another text.

_I'm not mad. I just want to make sure you're all right._

There was no reply for several minutes, and, with a sigh, Dick pulled back onto the road, headed for Blüdhaven. Finally, as he was exiting the freeway, a response came in.

_**Dick, stay the hell away from me.**_

As soon as he was able, Dick pulled off the road again to respond. _Can we meet for coffee or something?_

This time, the response was quick. _**No. I need to be away from everyone. I've had it this time.**_

Dick was a bit worried. This was the Jason of earlier that day – a vindictive Jason who did not care about his family, and one who was far more dangerous than Dick liked to admit. Oh, he had told Damian that Jason's words were a result of their brother's hurt feelings about Bruce's decision, and Dick did not doubt that it was, but it did not change the fact that Jason, when angered or injured, lashed out in the worst possible way.

Dick texted his brother. _Dude, don't say that. We can work it out. _

_**There's nothing to work out, Dick. I want you to stay the hell away from me, and, if you don't, I'll make you fucking sorry that you didn't. And you won't be the only sorry one.**_

Dick's blood ran cold.

_Let's talk. Please. _He texted him.

There was no response, and Dick knew that there would not be. If Jason wanted to be off the radar, he would stay off the radar. Dick pulled back onto the road, and was home within minutes.

Being home, however, did not give him any peace. He was too agitated to settle down – angry over Bruce's highhandedness about Devon, anxious about Damian, and heartsick about Jason.

How did it _all _go so _wrong_ in the space of simply hours? The day had started out so promising, and now his family was as fractured as he had ever seen it. Even Tim, even-tempered, easy-going and clever, was falling apart!

He had to get out of his apartment – and he knew where he wanted to go.

To see Devon. To lose himself in her for a few hours, and let her chase the ghosts away.

* * *

He changed quickly and took his motorcycle back to Gotham. It was just past nine P.M. when he climbed to her window, which, although ajar, showed darkness within.

He pulled it open and stepped through. The room was empty, although he could hear the sounds of a television coming from another part of the apartment.

Stripping off his gloves, he removed his ear comm and laid them all on the table next to her bed, and eased the door open. He could see the glow of the television flickering on one of the walls, and a low light came from a door opposite.

With light steps, he sneaked down the hall to the closest doorway, from which the light emanated, and found that it was the kitchen.

Leftovers from what was obviously a Thanksgiving meal sat cooling on the counter, and, with a look around, Dick inspected them. There was a turkey drumstick amongst the detritus, and he brazenly picked it up and took a bite. It was good. Not _Alfred _good, but few could boast of culinary skills of the butler's level.

Still clutching the leg, he turned and went back to the hall to follow the sounds of the television. Crouching down at the door, he peered into the room.

He could see Devon seated on a long sofa, working on her laptop while intermittently looking up at the screen, where a football game was being shown.

She had her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, and was in a button-down blouse and a pair of jeans, with socks gracing her feet, folded beneath her. She looked eminently – screwable.

He continued his sweep of the room – an older woman, presumably her grandmother, was seated in an easy chair, and a dog lay at her feet, asleep.

A dog! _Shit_! He had forgotten about the dog!

He pulled some meat off the drumstick he still held, and tossed it to the dog.

The animal's nose twitched, and its eyes gradually opened. It looked at the piece of meat, laying only a few inches from its head, and reached forward and took it.

Dick ripped off several more pieces and threw them closer and closer to where he was, until the dog came up to him, snuffling for more treats, and Dick was able to pet him. He led the animal to the kitchen, where he gave him (it was definitely a _boy_ dog) several more morsels of turkey.

"Good boy." He smiled, stroked him behind the ears, and picked several more pieces of meat for him before shooing him off.

The dog, however, sat down and looked at Dick, expecting to be fed more, but Dick shook his head. "There won't be anything left for your humans, buddy."

The dog taken care of, there was one more thing he had to do – get Devon's attention without alerting her grandmother. He grabbed a handful of grapes, and, followed by the dog, crept back to the living room entrance.

He threw a grape at Devon, but it hit the sofa next to her, although the dog went after it, abandoning Dick.

Nightwing grimaced as the dog's nailed scratched against the floor, and he ducked back.

"What are you looking for, you goofy dog?" It was Devon's voice, and he peered around the corner again.

She had gone back to her work, and he threw several more grapes at her before she was disturbed enough to investigate.

He retreated back into the kitchen, and she hesitantly followed, passing directly in front of him without seeing him in his hiding place. He slipped up behind her and put one hand over her mouth and the other across the front of her shoulders, pulling her back against him and kissing her on the neck.

Although she jumped, she knew him immediately by his actions, and leaned into him. His hand snaked from her mouth to her jaw, and he turned her gently to him.

"Are you crazy?" She hissed when he moved to kiss her neck again, his fingers drifting to the buttons on her blouse.

He nodded, and his lips found hers then, and she allowed his tongue to pass into her mouth. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, and could feel the start of an erection in his cup.

He put his lips against her ear. "Turn up the TV and make some excuse to your grandmother. I'll meet you in your bedroom."

She nodded silently, and watched as he disappeared down the hall.

She returned to the living room, excited. Nightwing was – different, somehow, tonight. He seemed more – reckless, more – emotional. Raw and – sexy.

"Uh, Grandma, can you hear that okay?"

Marie turned to her, jerkily drawn from the game. "Well, yes. I suppose." She looked speculatively at the screen. "Now that you mention it, could you turn it up a bit? I can't tell what the refs are saying."

Devon turned it up perhaps a little too much, but she gave her grandmother a thumbs up, and grabbed her laptop. "I'm going to work on my paper a little more in the bedroom, then go to bed." She gave the older woman a kiss. "Goodnight, Grandma. See you tomorrow."

She nearly ran to her room, and, once inside, locked the door and turned to her lover.

He was already nude and waiting for her, and he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, and guided her until her back was against the wall, next to the window.

He began to divest her of her clothing without speaking, his lips silencing all of her words until he moved to take her shoulder in his mouth.

"Why did you want the sound up?" She asked breathlessly, watching him as he suckled on the curve of her shoulder.

He lifted his head and grinned at her. "Because I want to make some noise."

A mischievous smile crossed her face. "Why? Are you going to scream?"

"No." He grabbed her beneath the arms and lifted her off her feet, her back still against the wall. "You are."

She did.

* * *

She slid down the wall with him until he was on his knees, and her legs were wrapped around his torso. She laid her head on his shoulder, trying to regain her breath.

"Oh, wow."

He chuckled, and kissed her cheek. "Good?" Hie sounded breathless, as well.

She nodded. "Yes. God, yes."

"Bed?"

She nodded again, and, with his hands beneath her bottom, he carried her there, laying her down and stretching out beside her. She snuggled up to him, her head on his chest, and listened to his heart as it slowed to normal.

His fingers traced a line up and down her arm, and she closed her eyes, reveling in the moment, and in this man. "Did you have a good Thanksgiving?"

"Not until I got here." He admitted.

She looked up at him. "I'm sorry. What happened?"

His mouth pulled down. "A bad thing. A _very_ bad thing."

Her face expressed concern. "Oh, no! Was someone hurt or – killed?"

He shook his head. "No. Not that bad, thankfully. Just – stuff, I guess."

She laid her head back down. "I'm sorry."

Just then, his stomach rumbled, and he gave a low laugh. "And I didn't get to eat much dinner. Although I shared some turkey with your dog."

"I _thought_ that you tasted like turkey."

"I didn't get as much as he did, though."

"I can't believe you bribed my dog with food."

"A way to a man's heart is through his stomach – even four-legged men."

"Hmm. If that's the case, maybe I can bribe you with some pumpkin pie."

"I can be bribed with pumpkin pie."

"Good." She kissed his pectoral muscle, and got up. "My grandmother makes the best pumpkin pie in the city."

He folded his arms behind his head and grinned at her. "Sounds like someone's marketing the diner."

"Ha." She found her panties and put them on. "Don't take my word for it. Taste and you tell me." She grabbed a t-shirt from a drawer and tugged it on.

"I will."

She kissed him before she left, and he watched the door for a long moment, thinking about her. She was – _everything _he wanted in a woman. She was beautiful and intelligent and passionate and – _uncomplicated_. So different from his other girlfriends – so different from Barbara, who carried so much baggage from just being Batgirl.

Devon was back quickly, carrying a plate with a large piece of pie with whipped cream, as well as a fork.

"Here you go." She settled down on the bed, and he sat up.

"It looks good." He sat up and took the plate from her.

"It _is_ good. We sell out every day."

"Really? Maybe I should come by and get a piece." He cut into it with the fork.

"I don't know. We don't serve masked men."

He smiled, and popped a bite in his mouth. "Oh, _shit_! This _is _good!" His eyes widened behind his mask.

"I told you."

He greedily shoveled more into his mouth. "You weren't lying."

"Nope." She cuddled up against him and watched as he devoured the rest. "That was a third of a pie, you know."

"It was _damn _good. I would say to give my compliments to your grandmother, but that would cause a _lot_ of awkward questions."

"Yes, it would." She leaned over and kissed him. "Hmm. Now you taste like pumpkin pie."

"It's a good taste." He put aside the empty plate and took her in his arms.

They lay there for several minutes, just kissing and enjoying being together.

"Thank you," Dick said finally.

"For what?"

He shrugged. "For salvaging my Thanksgiving."

"You're welcome. Thank you for giving me something else to be thankful for."

"Oh, really?" He slid his arms around her back. "And what _exactly_ did I give you that you're thankful for?"

She blushed. "Three or four – things. You know."

His hands crept to the band of her panties. "I can give you something else to be thankful for."

"You're such a giver." She smiled slyly, and lying back, lifted her hips so that he could slide the underwear down her legs.

"That's me." He nudged her legs apart and bent his head over her, trailing kisses down her belly, lower and lower. "I give and give and – give." His last word was muffled as his mouth became occupied.

* * *

**Author's Note: **What can I say? Hot sex soothes an aching soul...

I also hoped you liked Thanksgiving with the Crock/Harper (with a little bit of the West) clan. I am really enjoying writing for all of them, since I find something endearing in all of them. And, I'll admit it, I find Roy hot!

You probably also noticed that I slipped in a _little _something about Wally coming back from the dead. I don't know how it will/would happen, but I'm guessing that is/was the plan of the producers from the get-go (and hence the introduction of Darkseid, who FAMOUSLY sent Batman back in time). Anyway, whatever happens, I'm sure Artemis will be involved!

Please review!


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Notes: **A bonus chapter for my faithful readers, and a bit of a _mea maxima culpa_. I submitted the newest chapter of "Spirit Within" to my betareaders on Wednesday of this week, and by this morning, I had not yet gotten a reply. SO, I checked my DocX outbox, and APPARENTLY, ffnet had some sort of a problem (I swear it wasn't me - I even remember the note I sent with the chappie!), and the chapter was never sent! So I sent the new chapter to my readers this morning. : /

I do not want to post it without some eagle eyes looking at it, so I will post it when I get it this week. That means that there is a potential for two chapters of Spirit Within in a seven-day time span!

So, to make up for no chapter of SW today, I give you another chapter of SM.

Enjoy.

And thanks to sunflower13 for betreading all of these!

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**The Next Morning**

**November 23rd**

Dick woke alone in his own bed in his own apartment on the day after Thanksgiving, and had never been more thankful for a day off.

After reluctantly leaving Devon the night before, he had gone home and collapsed in bed, exhausted. Emotional turmoil and hot sex took a lot of energy, and he found that his thigh muscles were sore, although, he reflected, it was probably as a result of the hot sex and _not_ the emotional turmoil.

All in all, he would have preferred to have skipped the first twenty-odd hours of Thanksgiving and gone straight to the sex. He could have happily lived without Jason losing his mind and without Bruce raking him over the coals about Devon.

But he could not pretend that it all hadn't happened. And that there weren't consequences.

He would need to start looking for Jason, even if Jason didn't want him to. After all, families were supposed to be there for each other. That meant that Dick would have to go back to Bruce and get the tracker information so that he could run his brother to ground. He did _not_ look forward to that.

Maybe he could get it from Alfred instead.

The more that he thought on it, the better it sounded. Alfred would _never _lecture him about a girl, or about his lifestyle decisions.

And Alfred would be sure to have lots of leftovers, as well.

That cinched it. He was going home.

* * *

The manor was quiet when Dick let himself in, and he headed for the kitchen first.

The room was empty, so he helped himself to leftovers, choosing to eat them all cold. Cold stuffing was really quite good, and he wondered why more people didn't eat it that way.

He found the pumpkin pie and cut a piece, and sat at the counter eating it.

_Damn it_! He thought to himself as he chewed. _This isn't as good as Devon's grandmother's. _It was actually the first time that he had ever tasted _anything _of Alfred's that wasn't the best in the world.

"Well, hello, Master Dick. How are you this morning?"

Dick turned towards Alfred. "Morning, Alfie. _Is _it still morning?"

Alfred looked at his watch. "For three more minutes."

"So that makes it almost time for lunch. I could really use a turkey sandwich."

Alfred looked at the food containers strew across the counter. "Looks as though you've already _had _some turkey."

Dick held his forefinger and thumb about an inch apart. "A little bit."

Alfred gave a slight smile. "And some stuffing. And cranberry. And – pie." He indicated the tin missing a large chunk of pie.

"Yeah. Heh. I was hungry." He looked sheepish.

"I'd be happy to make you a sandwich, Master Dick, you know that." He pulled a loaf of bread from the pantry.

"Thank you. It's really quiet in here today. Where is everyone?"

"Masters Bruce, Timothy, and Damian are training _belowstairs_." _Belowstairs _was Alfred-speak for the BatCave.

"Together?" Dick was surprised. Damian did not like to train with anyone _other _than Bruce or Dick. Training with Tim was _huge _concession for Damian.

"I believe so."

"Huh. That's – good."

"I thought so."

"And – how are they doing?"

Alfred looked thoughtful. "To be frank, Master Dick, Master Bruce is – uneasy, and rather regretful regarding the events of yesterday."

"Our fight with Jason, or _his _fight with me?"

"Both, I believe. Add to that Master Timothy's – difficulties, and the _contretemps _with Master Damian this morning..."

"His _whazzit _with Damian?"

"_Contretemps –_ it's French for 'disagreement,' Sir."

"Oh. So why did he have a _counter-tongue _with Damian?"

"No, Sir, _contretemps_. It's pronounced –" He looked at Dick for a long moment. "Never mind. They argued about Master Bruce's plans."

"Oh, no. I thought that what I said to Damian had made a difference."

"I think that it did, but Master Damian was still upset, apparently, that Master Bruce did not share his secret with him sooner."

"Yeah. I was wondering when that would come up. Did they solve their problem?"

"I believe so. Hot or cold?"

"What?" Dick blinked at the manservant.

"Hot turkey sandwich or cold, Sir?"

"Oh. Hot would be wonderful, Alfred. Thank you."

As Alfred went about making Dick's second wave of lunch, Dick thought that it might be time to broach what was uppermost in his mind. "So – Alfie, gotta ask." He tried to be nonchalant. "You got any leads on Jason?"

"I've been tracking him since he left, Master Richard. He was in one spot overnight, and, although he's on the move now, he's still in Gotham."

"Good. I'll check out his position after lunch."

"Is that a good idea?"

Dick shrugged. "He needs someone, Alfred."

"Shouldn't you discuss it with Master Bruce first?"

Dick shook his head. "Things aren't – good between us right now, Alfred."

"Master Bruce did mention something, Sir – but few details."

Dick shrugged. "I met a girl, Alfie."

"The young lady you mentioned to me a few weeks ago?"

Dick smiled. "Yeah. And she is – incredible. And Bruce doesn't approve."

Alfred's brows rose. "Is that _all _that was the genesis of the – disagreement, Master Dick?"

Dick blushed. "Maybe not."

Alfred slid a plate with a hot turkey sandwich on it in front of Dick. "Despite what you might think, Master Bruce has nothing but your best interests at heart."

Dick sighed and took the knife and fork that Alfred offered. "I know. But it's _my _life. And he should trust me enough to allow me to make my own decisions. Hell! They're mostly all decisions I made _because _of what he taught me."

"It is always very difficult for a parent to let go. Especially of the oldest."

Dick gave a rueful smile, and Alfred continued.

"Master Dick, you must remember that you and Master Bruce _grew up _together. Much of his growth occurred after you came into his life. And he is, naturally, very protective of you."

"He seems more protective of Batman, to be honest."

"He couches his concern under that mantle; it is true. But his _main_ concern in life _is_ his sons. All of you." At Dick's skeptical look, Alfred gave a slight smile. "You will probably not understand until you have children of your own."

Dick laughed around his sandwich. "In that case, Bruce is going to have to wait a long time for a kindred spirit, Alfred."

Just then, a low alarm began beeping, and Alfred frowned.

"What is it?"

Alfred walked to a cabinet. "It's Master Jason's tracker."

Dick stopped eating. "What about it?"

"I don't know." Alfred opened the cabinet to reveal a high tech command post, complete with several small computer screens, one of which showed a rapidly blinking red light.

Alfred frowned, and turned to Dick. "He has apparently discovered it and destroyed it."

"Can you track where he was when he destroyed it?" Dick wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"I believe so. He was in Gotham. At – Fifth and Court, it appears."

The food that Dick was eating turned into a huge lump in his throat, and he forced himself to swallow it. "Wh – what did you say?" He lowered his fork slowly, hoping he had misheard.

"He was at Fifth and Court."

The _diner_! Jason was at the diner – with Devon!

"Oh, _shit_!" Without another word, Dick was gone.

* * *

Dick tried to pay attention to the road as he drove to the diner, but his mind was in turmoil.

Jason was with Devon. He was at the diner, and he was _close _to her, and – who knew what he might do?

In his current state, he might try to hurt her, just to lash out at _him – _at Dick, who Jason had so long resented.

Devon's involvement with Nightwing – with _him_, may have brought her into danger.

Damn Bruce! Damn him for being right!

Dick's bluetooth receiver went off, and he answered with an anxious "hello."

"Master Dick, are you all right?"

"Alfred! Yeah. I – am. No, I'm not. Not really." He admitted.

"Is this about Master Jason? His last transmission?"

"Yes. He – he's after Devon, I think." Just saying those words brought bile up into his throat. Jason could be – unpredictable.

"Devon? Is that your young lady?"

Dick squeezed his eyes shut for just a fraction of a second. "Yeah. That's her."

"You don't think that Master Jason would – hurt her, do you?"

"I don't know. Right now, with the way Jason is feeling, I just don't know. I can't take the chance."

"Shall I send Master Bruce?"

"No!" Dick shook his head. "Absolutely not. If Jason is there, the last person he'll want to see is Bruce. No. Let me take care of it." He drew in a deep breath. "I can take care of it." His confident words were as much to convince himself as Alfred.

"You will call for help if you need it, won't you, Master Dick?"

"Yeah. I will, Alfie. But it will probably all be –"

"A tempest in a teapot?"

Dick gave the ghost of a smile. "Yes. Hopefully."

"Take care, Master Dick. Of both yourself _and_ Master Jason."

Dick gave a sad sigh. "I'll try."

"Please update me when you can."

"I will."

He ended the call, and concentrated on what he would do when he got there, should Jason actually be there.

He would try to talk to him first. Of course he would try to talk to him first. He wasn't going to start throwing punches at his own _brother _without talking first.

_And what if he has guns_? _What if he's already taken Devon_?

Shit. He needed to get there - quick. And, if she was okay, he had to talk to her – warn her.

He grabbed his phone and called up her contact, and it connected through the bluetooth speaker.

"Hello?" He heard her voice, normal and wonderful, and some of the tension in his body dissolved.

"Devon? Where are you?" He asked as her boyfriend, as her lover, and did not realize how _proprietary _the question was.

"Dick?" She sounded confused.

"Yes. Where are you?"

"I – I'm at the diner. Working. Why? What do you want?"

Shit. He had forgotten that she was probably still mad at him for their fight that day he had gone to the diner with Barbara. And that she didn't know that she was sleeping with Dick. _Damn it! _ He would have to do a little explaining.

"Look, my brother. You remember my brother?"

"Yeah." Her voice was curious.

"Is he there?"

"No. Why?"

He said a silent prayer of thanks. "I'm on my way over there now. If you _see _him, call me back immediately."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Please. Just do it. Okay?"

"Okay. Yeah. Is – everything okay?"

"I'll explain when I get there." _If I can explain_. "Just stay away from the windows and doors – if you can."

"What? Why?" Now her voice sounded a bit alarmed.

"Just – do it." He said, again, aware that he was being heavy-handed. "I'll explain soon. Please."

"Okay. I – okay."

"Thanks. I'll be there soon." He clicked off and concentrated on staying on the road.

He should never have taken Jason to the diner – never should have revealed his relationship with Devon, never should have revealed that he loved her. But Jason had seemed so – so _much _like Jason of yesteryear, before all the chaos with the Joker had changed him forever.

Dick found a parking space along the front of the diner, and, after pulling in, he jumped out of the car and looked around. He should do some general reconnaissance before going in. He looked up and around at all the buildings, as well as down the street, and in the alley, checking the back door to the diner to make certain that it was locked, and looking up at Devon's window to make sure that it was closed.

He came back around the front of the building, and his text alert sounded. He pulled the phone from his pocket and swiped the screen.

_**Can't keep away from her, can you, Dickie?**_

It was Jason. He was watching! He was nearby!

Dick looked around at the buildings again. No window appeared open, and none appeared broken.

Dick texted him.

_Come talk to me, bro. Please. _

_**Maybe we can share a piece of pumpkin pie. It was really tasty, wasn't it?**_

Dick froze for a moment as the implication sunk in. Jason had been there the night before, when Dick had been with Devon. He had seen them – he had _watched _them. Oh, God. He had watched them _together_ in her room.

Dick ran his hand across the bottom half of his face, and surveyed his surroundings once more, but still saw no sign of Jason.

He decided to text him again.

_Please leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with what's going on with you._

_**Afraid I might jinx your charmed life?**_

_Come on, Jase. If you're pissed at me or Bruce, take it out on US, not on other people._

The response was long in coming.

_**No more tracking devices.**_

That was an easy promise to make.

_No. No more. I promise._

_**Then she's safe. Leave me alone, and she's safe.**_

Relief came over Dick so much that it was almost physically palpable.

_Thank you. _

There was no response, and, when Dick put the phone back in his pocket, it did not escape his notice that his hands were trembling.

* * *

Devon listened to the tone that meant that the call had ended, and looked at her phone speculatively. What was going on with Dick and his brother? Why had he called _her_? She and Dick weren't – involved, after all, and she had only met his brother that one, brief time.

So why was he calling her, and why was he coming _here_?

Lunch was winding down, and she was nearly done with her shift, and she hoped that he would come before they closed the diner. And before her grandmother came downstairs. She didn't want any awkward questions from the older woman, or reminders that she really shouldn't have a _boyfriend_ – as if _that _was what Dick was.

Devon cleared several empty tables and continued taking care of customers until Dick entered the restaurant, about a half hour after he called. He stood there watching her with his hands in his pockets, looking so kicked in the teeth and disconsolate that she felt an almost overpowering need to console him with a kiss.

_What the hell, Devon? **Again**? What is **wrong **with you_? She asked herself. _You have an amazing man, and you still can't think of anything but making out with Dick Grayson every time he walks in the door? Even though **Dick **might be spying on you and talking about you to his friends?! Well, we are going to talk about **that**, that's for sure!_

She shook the thoughts from her head and came over to him.

He smiled at her uncertainly. "Hey, Devon. Thanks – for seeing me."

His downtrodden look chased the idea of lecturing him from her mind, and she impulsively squeezed his forearm. "You want to sit down?"

He glanced around at the half-empty diner. "If you're not too busy."

She shook her head. "No. Not at all. Come on." She led him to an empty booth far from the other patrons, and he slid in. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? A piece of pie? My grandmother makes the best pumpkin pie in the city."

He shook his head. "Yeah, I know, but no – thanks."

She frowned, confused, but he continued, extending a hand to her, although he did not touch her.

"Can – can you sit for a couple of minutes?" He asked.

She glanced around. No one seemed to need her. "Sure." She took the bench opposite him, and he absently took her hand, his fingers wrapping gently around her wrist.

"Wh – what happened?" She tried to ignore the tingling where he was touching her, and tried to drag her eyes from the sight of his skin on hers.

"It's my brother, Jason. We had a – blow-up yesterday at dinner."

"What kind of a blow-up?" Concern etched her face.

He shrugged, and watched as he traced a pattern on the back of her hand. "The kind where someone says some _uncomfortable _truths that you just don't want to hear."

"Oh. I'm – sorry." She drew her mouth down. "Is there – anything I can do?" It was hard for her to concentrate while he was touching her.

He shook his head.

"Why do you think he might come here?"

"He – might come here. He knows about – us."

"Oh." She said again. "But what do you mean that he knows about – us? I mean, it's not like..."

He flushed red, and withdrew his hand suddenly, placing both in his lap. "No. You're right. I guess I should say that – he knows how I feel about you."

"Oh." She said it a third time, and hated herself for her lack of eloquence. But what _could_ she say to him? He was confessing, again, that he felt something for her, and she was speechless about that. Instead, she zoned on what she _could_ say to him. "Is – is he dangerous?"

He was long in answering. "I – don't think so."

"If he comes – here, should I call the police?"

"No!" He answered sharply, then sighed. "No. If he comes here, just call me. Really. Any time. It doesn't matter – even if it's the middle of the night."

She was skeptical now. "Are you sure this isn't just..."

He must have understood what she meant, because his face reddened. "No. Is that what you think of me? That I would make this up just to get close to you?"

She was suddenly ashamed of herself. "No. No. Of course not. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't know why I said that. I'll call you – of course I'll call you."

"Just make sure you keep things – locked."

She felt a cold fear grip her stomach. "Dick, you're – scaring me."

He looked at her, his blue eyes astonished. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. He's _not _dangerous – not really. Just – to himself, I think."

She felt heartsick for him. "I'll call. Really. I will. If I see him."

"Thanks." He smiled at her weakly, and her heart lurched. _Oh, God, don't start that again. You are __**not **__falling for __him – even more_!

She decided to distract him. "Can I get you something? Look, let me get you a slice of pie or coffee – on the house." She started to get up, but he followed her lead.

"Thanks, Devon, but I really – have to go. But, thanks – again. Take care. Please." With one last smile, he turned and left, and _she_ was left staring after him, wondering how she could convince him to stay. And realizing that she had not talked to him about what Wally had said.

* * *

Dick called Bruce the moment he got back into the car. "I need to talk to you about Jason. But _just _about Jason."

"Is that your subtle way of telling me that your private life is off-limits?"

"I'll be there in less than thirty." He ended the conversation and ran through, in his mind, solutions to the problem of Jason.

He shook his head. He couldn't believe that they were going through this again – that Jason was so _bad _again. Not bad, as in evil, but bad, as in a bad place.

Dick had always hoped for happiness and peace for his younger brother, and it seemed that it was eluding Jason – again.

They could not call in anyone else for help – there was no one who could help them, anyway. A fallen Bat was _their _problem – no one else's. No one else was qualified or _entitled_ to get involved.

It was a family matter.

* * *

Dick found Bruce in the Batcave, sitting at the computer. He stopped behind his father, and, although he remained silent, he was certain that Bruce could see his reflection on the computer screen.

"Did Alfred tell you?" Dick asked.

Bruce continued typing. "That Jason went after your girlfriend? That he destroyed his tracker? Yes."

Dick sighed. "He texted me."

Bruce's fingers stilled. "What did he say?"

"He was watching me last night."

"When?"

"When I was with Devon."

"Oh." Bruce's voice was flat. "What else did he say?"

"He told me – us – to leave him alone. Or he'd go after her."

Bruce was silent, but "_I told you so" _screamed through the room. "You should break it off with her."

"No. Not an option. Next."

Bruce swiveled in his chair to look at his son. "Dick, you're being very stubborn about this."

"Wonder where I learned that?"

Bruce sighed. "Fine. Do what you like. How are you going to protect her?"

He shrugged. "Alarms would be best. Outside her windows. On the doors."

"And how are you going to accomplish that without her knowing? And her grandmother?"

Dick's brows rose. Bruce knew about her grandmother. "You do quick work."

Bruce shrugged. "She's in your life. I need to find out everything I can about her."

Dick crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the console. "So what did you find out?"

"Probably no more than you."

"I doubt that." He snorted.

Bruce looked almost guilty. "Well, you're probably right." He turned back to his computer. "The diner's insurance company offers a substantial discount if buildings are equipped with alarms."

Dick almost smiled. "So, let me guess. Wayne Enterprises has a controlling share in this insurance company."

"It will by Monday."

Dick had to grin, although he tried to hide it by looking down at his folded arms. "So their insurance company is going to demand that they install an alarm?"

"On the contrary. Their insurance company is going to _facilitate _an alarm installation. Installers will be out there Tuesday. Can you keep them safe until Tuesday?" He gave Dick a challenging look.

"Oh, I think I can keep an eye out." He pushed off the console. "Thank you, Bruce."

"What are fathers for?"

"Exactly this, I think. On a slightly smaller scale. Now what are we going to do about Jason?"

"We'll keep tabs on him as best we can without a tracker. It will be harder, of course, but not impossible. We already know his habits, and I don't think that he is going to change them just to stymie us."

"Do you think he'll – do anything?"

"I don't know. We should be vigilant. Not let our guard down. Other than that," he shook his head, "we'll just have to wait for him to cool off."

"That could take a while."

Bruce's lips compressed. "Yes. Knowing Jason, that could take a _long _while."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

**November 23rd**

To be honest, Dick did not find it a burden to keep watch on Devon. He simply showed up at her building right after nightfall, and, after sitting nearby for several hours, and once she opened her window, he simply made his way to her room and let himself in.

He startled her by coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her body, drawing her back against him.

"Mm." She allowed herself to be nuzzled. "You have to stop doing that. Next time I might scream."

"Again?" She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Not the good kind of scream."

"Oh. Well, who else comes up behind you and kisses your neck?" He asked, trying to suppress the mirth in his voice.

She sniffed. "I don't know. I've had a few – volunteers."

"Really? Who should I fight then, for you?"

She turned in his arms. "You'd fight someone – over _me_?"

"Shit, yes. I know a good thing when I've got it." He pulled his gloves off and tossed them on the floor.

"Ah, you mean a woman who'll bang you and not care if you don't call the next day?"

"Exactly." He kissed her, and she twined her arms around his neck. "In fact, I think that you may be the perfect woman."

"There you go, being all charming again."

"I am _very _charming." He backed her towards the bed.

"So you say." Her legs hit the mattress, and, bracing them with one arm, he lowered them both to the bed.

"I'll have you know that I have been told by _several _people that I am charming."

"How many of them were related to you?" She watched as he sat back on his haunches and shed his shirt.

"By blood, none, I think." He bent over, and, with his teeth, grabbed the bottom edge of her t-shirt and began dragging it upwards.

She giggled. "I have to say that you have a very talented mouth."

He dropped the hem. "You said that last night, too."

She reached for his utility belt, and he helped her remove it, and his boots and bottom half of his uniform followed, and he drew her up to pull her clothes off.

"Shit." He stopped, remembering that he had wanted to close the window – in case there were any _observers_.

"What?"

"I wanted to close the window."

"Oh, I'll get it." She jumped off the bed. "You get a condom."

"Right." He rolled over and opened the drawer on her bedside table, grabbing one. "Oh, and don't forget the drapes." He said over his shoulder.

She turned and gave him a strange look, but did as he said and returned to the bed.

"Ouch! What the hell?" She stumbled. "I stepped on something. Your utility belt." She bent over and picked it up, and they heard something fall to the floor. "Oh. I think I – broke something."

"Not a problem." He turned on the mask optics and crawled onto the floor.

"What was it?" She pulled off her t-shirt.

"I don't know. I didn't see it."

She started giggling. "I can't believe you're crawling around bare-assed on my floor."

He smiled up at her. "You got a problem with that?"

"Not at all. I like your bare ass. It's pretty much perfect." She stepped out of her underwear and sat on the bed.

He found the small button-sized piece of metal and picked it up. "Got it." He straightened and, sitting beside her, examined the object.

"What is it?" She peered over his shoulder.

He increased the optic zoom and brought the button nearer. Upon closer examination, several details came into focus. The manufacturer, among other things: Wayne Enterprises. The button's true function: tracking. The owner of the button: Batman.

Enlightenment came to him immediately.

A scene from Thanksgiving jumped into his head, and Damian's voice. _"Is that where you've been going? To have sexual relations with a woman? She lives over that diner, doesn't she?"_

How could he have missed that? How could he have _not _noticed what Damian had said?

_Because you were a little busy with Jason_, his inner voice told him.

"That little _shit_!" He closed his hand over the tracker.

"What is it?" She asked again.

"A tracking device."

"A tr – tracking device? As in, someone's been _following _you?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"And you know who it is?"

He shook his head and gave a bark of laughter. "Robin."

"Robin?" She sounded dazed.

"Yes – Robin. My baby br – bird." He stopped short of saying _brother_, and laughed again. "I can't believe that kid. Apparently he wanted to know where I was disappearing to every night."

"And now he knows."

"Oh, I think he's known for a while now."

"Oh." She sat back. "Do – do you want to go?"

"What?" He turned to her, distracted, then cleared his head of thoughts of Damian. "No. Oh, no." He tossed the tracker onto her bedside table, and pulled her onto his lap. "He already knows where I am. No hiding it." He lifted her hair from her shoulder. "Now, where were we?"

* * *

**Author's Notes: ** I hope you enjoyed the bonus chapter. The incident at the beginning with the French word "contretemps" is part of an inside family joke - so it's an Easter egg to approximatelyfour people on Earth, none of whom read this fanfic. Anyway, if you get the chance to go to a site that can pronounce the word for you (the way that the French pronounce it - not the English mangling of it), you should listen to it. It is such a beautiful sound for the word "argument." French really is among the most mellifluous languages on Earth.

So, Jason is on the loose, making mischief, and Damian's mischief has, apparently, been managed. ; )

By the way, bonus chapters require reviews if you want more in the future...

; )


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: **Thanks to Sunflower13 for betareading, and also filmeditor16, to whom I MAY have leaked a couple of additional chapters. Also thanks to lovemondotrasho, who listens to a lot of my complaining! : )

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

**November 24th**

"Morning, baby bird." Dick's voice was sunny as he greeted his brother, who was hunched over his desk working on the _special project _that he had mentioned to Dick a few weeks before.

Damian spared him only a brief glance. "Grayson. Just because you are laboring under the _misapprehension _that we shared a confidence on Thanksgiving, do not allow that to cloud your mind into _thinking _that you can address me in such _revolting _terms from now on."

Dick came up beside him and slammed his palm on the desk, causing Damian to jump. He removed his hand slowly. "Look familiar, _baby bird_?"

Damian glanced at what Dick had deposited on the desk, and did a double take. "Oh. Uh. Well. I..." He trailed off.

Dick picked up the tracker, and turned it over in his fingers. "Funniest thing. _This _was attached to my utility belt. Any idea how it got there?"

Damian jumped up suddenly and pointed a finger at his brother. "You ditched me – so I wanted to know _what _you ditched me for." His shoulders slumped. "Turns out it was a _who _rather than a _what_."

"And so, because I left you at home – mind you, where _most _ten year-old boys belong, you decided to find out where I was going, and put a tracer on me."

Damian's head hung. "Yes."

"Well, you found out. Find out anything else interesting?"

His head snapped up to Dick. "What? N – no. What do you mean?"

Dick looked at him speculatively. "You didn't – climb a tree and _spy _on me, or anything?"

Damian was outraged. "No! What do you think I am – a voyeur?"

"You tell me."

"No, Grayson. I think that _one _voyeur in the family is quite enough."

Dick had the good grace to blush. "Fine. You made your point. Keep in mind, though, that the most important facet of a relationship is trust, and if I can't trust you –"

"Trust _me_?! _You lied_ to me and_ ditched _me, _and you _didn't tell me what Father was planning! How can _I _trust _you_? And how about you lying to that woman you're currently having sexual relations with? And Batgirl? And Drake?"

"I _never _lied to Tim!" Dick pointed out.

"But you _did _lie to Batgirl and to that _woman."_

Dick held up his hands in supplication. "Fine, fine. I said you've made your point. But you are _never _to put a tracker on me again."

"We _all _have GPS trackers on us for safety, Grayson. You know that."

"Yes. But those are a) voluntary, and b) only accessible to Bruce." A thought occurred to Dick. "Why didn't you just hack into those?"

Damian flushed red. "Father said that, if I ever hacked those again, he'd make me patrol with Drake for an entire month."

Dick smiled. "A fate worse than death."

His little brother sniffed. "Giving up Robin is a fate worse than death."

Dick put one arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. "Don't worry, little D. There's life after Robin. Promise."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Night**

**November 25th **

Dick had to admit that he liked sitting outside Devon's window. He liked being her _protector_ – liked being the one to watch over her.

_Wow, caveman much, Dick_? He frowned at himself. He was being entirely too sexist for his own peace of mind. She could take care of herself – hadn't she proved that by disarming the burglar? _Yeah, but a burglar is light years from Jason_. So, using that logic, he happily settled down the next three nights for a Batman-approved vigil on the rooftop of the building next to hers.

The fact that he could spend _that _much more time in her arms than most nights really never entered his conscious mind, although it was there in his subconscious, and, as he slid in through her window and greeted her, his brain reflected on how much he would love to enter through her door and sleep the night through with her.

* * *

"I like these early nights." He said after their first kiss, as he coddled her in his arms. "So much time to do – other things."

"Mmm. Me, too. Time to get naked." She began to peel his shirt over his head.

"Whoa. So much for romance." Even though he complained, he raised his arms obediently.

"I'm low-maintenance. Don't complain." The uniform top stopped at his wrist computer, and they struggled with it, as well as the gloves. "Why is it so hard to get you out of your clothes?" She grumbled.

He grinned. "You know, that it a _very _guy thing to say – usually."

"Oh, well, consider me just one of the guys."

He looked at her, startled. "Not likely."

It was her turn to smile as his shirt finally came off. "In that case, consider me your _very _horny girlfriend." Her eyes widened as she realized what she had said. "Oh, wait. No. I – didn't mean that."

He took her in his arms again. "The horny part or the girlfriend part?"

"The girlfriend part. I swear that I did _not _mean that."

He gave a low chuckle. "Does it bother you that much – being my girlfriend?"

"It kind of goes against our mission statement."

He shrugged. "Yeah. I guess."

"Look, we both went into this with eyes wide open. Yours behind a mask, of course, but wide open – presumably."

Behind his mask, those eyes narrowed. "So?"

"So – I'm not changing the rules. It would be unfair – to both of us. Besides, the anonymous sex is kind of – hot."

He gave an appreciative smile. "Oh, yeah?"

She blinked at him. "Despite my last statement sounding _really_ sleazy, yeah. I mean, sometimes," she shrugged, "I look at guys who come into the diner, and I imagine one of them _might _be you, and I..." She trailed off, and shrugged.

"Are you getting off on thinking that we could run into each other and you not even know it?" _That _was kind of hot, in Dick's opinion.

"M – maybe." She looked at him sheepishly.

"Mmm. Really? Well," he drew in a deep breath. "Are you thinking that – _maybe _I might walk into the diner, and sit down and order – lunch, maybe, and then, when you leave the dining room, I follow you to, I don't know, the ladies' room..." He stopped talking, and she pulled him gently towards the bed.

"Go on." She encouraged him.

"And I catch you in there, and you don't recognize me because, of course, I don't have my mask on..." She sat on the bed and he followed, his hands going to the bottom of her t-shirt.

"Yeah?" She asked after he had disrobed her.

He leaned over her, bracing his hands on either side of her body, and she fell back against the pillows.

"And I come up behind you –" He turned her over gently.

"Wouldn't I see you in the bathroom mirror?"

"You'd be looking down, because you'd be washing your hands..."

"Very hygienic of me."

"Well, you're a good waitress. So, then, my arms slide around you and I press my lips just – there..." He touched a spot where her neck met her shoulders, and she shivered in awareness. He smiled, and lowered his head to illustrate his words.

When his lips touched her skin, she melted, and seemed to lose all control of her limbs. "And?" Her voice was muffled where, stomach down on the bed, her lips touched the pillow.

"And you look up at my reflection in the mirror, and I lift my head, and our eyes meet. And you don't know who I am, but _something _seems familiar." He stripped her of her panties.

"Go on." She folded her arms under her chin and her head lifted, although she could not see him.

"And I move you forward."

"I'm against the sink."

He chuckled. "You pay _really _good attention. Okay, I _turn_ you around and move you against the opposite wall..."

"Did you lock the door?" He quickly shed his boots and the bottom half of his uniform, and was back above her again, his body straddling hers.

He moved her hair aside, and pressed kisses down her neck and onto her naked back. "No. We might get caught at any second."

"Hmm. Dangerous."

"I _am_ dangerous, after all."

She drew air in deeply through her nose. "Yes, you are."

"But you're not facing me, so you can't really see me..."

"Okay." She sounded breathless.

"And I lift your skirt up from behind, and..." His tongue dipped into the dimples at the base of her back, first one, and then the other.

"And?" Her voice was strangled.

He put his mouth close to her ear. "And you don't realize that it's me until I'm inside you, and then – then, you _know_."

And she knew.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Afternoon**

**November 26th**

_How'd it go_?

The text from Tim came back quickly. _**Brutal, Bro. My professors raked me over the coals.**_

_Did you get the incompletes? _

_**Two of them. There's going to be hell to pay, though. One of my professors wants me to do an extra paper to make up for the extension.**_

Dick frowned.

_Is that legal?_

_**Dude, it's Princeton. They can do what they want.**_

_Sorry._

_**It's okay. At least they're not failing me. Any news on Jason?**_

_Other than threatening my girlfriend, nothing._

_**So she's your GIRLFRIEND, huh?**_

Dick hissed between his teeth. Shit.

_No comment._

_**You don't need to comment. That NO COMMENT was comment enough.**_

Dick blinked.

_Huh?_

_**Forget it. Look, I'm about to go into professor #3's office. Let me know if you get any news on Jason.**_

_I will. Good luck._

_**Thanks. I'm gonna need it.**_

Dick slid the phone back into his pocket and shook his head. Things seemed to be slipping away from them right now. Jason's breakdown, Bruce's decision, Tim's grades – hell, his _own _grades. He was going to be lucky to have a "C" average this semester.

He just didn't _care _about his classes right now. He cared about his family, he cared about his friends, he cared about Devon. He didn't care about probabilistic graphical models or financial computing. But flunking out was not an option. Bruce would _never_ forgive him. He would never forgive himself. He wasn't a quitter – he wasn't going to give up. He might get C's, but he'd get through this semester – if it killed him.

It might just do that. Between his duties at Wayne Enterprises, classes, patrolling, and visiting Devon, he had little time to sleep, let alone study. But what could he give up? Bruce would not countenance him cutting down on his hours at Wayne Enterprises; he would say that Dick was "building for the future." And, _obviously_, quitting any of his classes was a non-starter, and he himself did not want to cut down on his time with Devon – sometimes it was the only thing that kept him putting one foot in front of another and making it through the day. So, it seemed that he would have to cut down on patrolling.

_Wow, way to be altruistic, Dick. Choosing your knob over helping people. _He sighed. Damn his life for being complicated. He could take _one _of his current problems – he didn't know if he could take _four_. And that wasn't even counting the situation with Jason. Of course, what could he _do _about Jason? Sit and wait, and hope that Jason would come to his senses?

Which was the same as _not _doing anything at all.

Well, if was not as if Jason had given him any choice, really.

And, above _all _his other problems, there was still someone out there trying to kill him and his family, and they _still _had no idea who or why.

He pulled the key fob for his car from his pocket and disarmed the alarm before climbing into the car. He leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes, and took a deep sigh.

He really needed some sleep. He wished that he could just go _home _and sleep – with Devon. He could sleep wrapped in her arms for days and days.

But right now he had to go home, grab dinner, get dressed, and go sit outside her window instead.

Why couldn't his life be _normal_?

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

**November 26th **

Devon flung down her backpack inside the door of her apartment gratefully. It had been a long day, and she was more than ready to eat dinner and lay around on the sofa for a while. Then, of course, there was a chance that Nightwing would come, and _that _wasn't so bad.

"Grandma, I'm home! Do I smell pot roast?" She walked into the living room, and stopped short at the sight of Larry sitting on the sofa.

"Well, hello, little girl. We didn't expect you to be so late." His smile was insincere.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She turned to Marie. "Grandma, what the hell is he doing here?"

"Now, now, Devon, is that the thing to say to a guest?" He asked.

Marie smiled weakly at her granddaughter. "He just stopped by to talk."

"And now he's going." _Before Nightwing gets here_! She pointed at the door.

"I came _all _this way to have a little chat with you." He patted the sofa next to him.

She folded her arms. "This is _not _a social call, _Uncle_ Larry. What do you want?"

He sat back, his arms along the back of the couch. "I have a new assignment for you."

She panicked, although, outwardly, she simply crossed her arms. "Why all of a sudden am _I _so popular with your employers?"

"Because _you're _in Gotham, and because, if you aren't useful, you're expendable."

A cold chill ran through her, but she brazenly retorted. "You've said that before, _Larry_. I think that you're making it all up. Maybe there is _no _employer. Maybe _you're _the one calling the shots. Maybe all of this is _your _agenda."

Larry chuckled, and shook his head. "Believe that if you want. Does it make any difference? Expendable to them, expendable to _me_? You'll still be dead."

She looked away, her jaw set, and he stood. "Thanks for the pot roast, Marie." He walked past Devon, and tossed something to her, which she instinctively caught. It was an in-ear communicator. "That's so there won't be _any _miscommunication again, like the night you took down Nightwing." He moved to the door. "You'll be hearing from us _very _soon."

Her hand flexed on the earpiece, and she held it tightly until she heard the door click after Larry. She longed to fling the communicator after him, but was afraid of such an action.

She was a coward. She was a coward and a criminal – Larry had made her into a thief and a saboteur and an attempted murderer, and if Nightwing _ever_ found out, she would lose him. She would lose the man she loved.

Oh, God, she _loved _him. She loved Nightwing.

What the hell was she going to do _now_?

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

**November 26th **

Dick left the Batcave not long after dark on Monday night. He had had to depart from the Manor rather than his place every night since beginning to guard Devon; leaving before eleven P.M. from his apartment in Blüdhaven without being spotted was impossible, and he wanted to be at her building by seven P.M. at the latest – after dark, but still early.

He was just pulling into his usual alley for parking when he heard shouting, and was instantly alert and off his bike, running towards the sound, reaching for his escrima sticks. The pounding of running feet approaching made him stop, and he squinted. It sounded like – two sets – no, three.

Three young men, dressed in hoodies and jeans, came running at him, one of them clutching a purse.

Dick smiled cheekily. "Hey, that bag doesn't match your shoes." With a few deft strikes, he took down two of the muggers, and turned to face the third.

The last, however, pulled a knife from his pocket and brandished it, swinging it at Dick.

Nightwing circled the young man. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"I'm not going to jail, man." He glared at Dick, who sighed and shrugged.

"Suit yourself. You saw what I just did to your buddies, right?"

"Back off!" The knife was thrust at Dick, and he stepped to the side.

"Look, just give it up, Dude. We can do this the hard way, and you end up missing a few teeth, or you can surrender quietly and you _don't _sip your food from a straw, _and _I get to go see my girlfriend."

"Screw you." The man lunged at him with the knife again.

A loud, shrill voice screamed "no!" behind Dick, and he broke his focus for a moment.

That was all it took for the young man to leap at him, his knife slicing upwards.

Dick felt the burn as the blade slipped through the skin on his upper arm, and he let out a yelp, backing up.

Ignoring the screamer, Dick jabbed the escrima stick into the man's abdomen, doubling him over, and, then brought the weapon down on the back of his neck.

The criminal crumpled to the ground, and Dick whirled to the source of the scream.

A woman stood there behind him, her eyes wide and her hands over her mouth.

"Are you okay?" Dick asked solicitously.

She nodded, and removed her hands. "Are _you_? You're bleeding."

"Yeah." He nodded, and turned his arm over to inspect the gash at the top, near the shoulder. It was probably going to need stitches. "It hurts like hell, but I'll survive."

The woman began to speak, but he held up a hand as he touched his ear comm to contact the police.

As he reported his location, he retrieved the purse from beside one of the unconscious men and handed it to the victim. "Here you go, Miss."

She nodded and took it from him. "Thank you so much."

"Yeah, not a problem." Although there was a smile on his face, it was tempered by a grimace of pain. "I'm here to serve, after all."

* * *

After the police had arrived and taken away the muggers, Nightwing retrieved his motorcycle from its now insecure hiding spot, and, grumbling, drove off.

His arm was starting to throb – the EMT's had offered to take care of it, but, mindful of his duty to guard Devon, and also of the fact that Bruce preferred that they tended their wounds in private, he refused.

The first aid kit on the bike provided a quick bandaging, and, after stashing his motorcycle a few blocks from Devon's building, he jogged there, his hand covering the wound to prevent more bleeding.

He was able to climb the tree even with his injury, and it was not long before he stood in front of Devon, his hands loosely clasping her upper arms, and his lips pressed against hers. After all, it _was _easier to guard her when they were in bed together.

"Wow. You are super early tonight. I like it."

"Mmm." He kissed the spot beneath her ear. "And that's even after I took out some muggers and gave a statement to the cops."

"Wow. Big night."

"Hmm." His lips trailed down to her collar bone. "It's about to get bigger."

She laughingly cupped him through his uniform. "I would say it already has." She began to tug his uniform top off, and he winced as he lifted his arms.

"You're hurt." She pulled away.

"It's okay." His lips caught the edge of her mouth as she left him to turn on the lamp next to her bed. She came back and examined his bicep, and his heart flipped at her obvious concern.

"You need stitches."

"I'll take care of it later." His hands reached for her.

She gave him a look of disbelief and firmly lowered his arms. "Come with me." She led him to the door and opened it, and, after making certain that the hall was empty, took him through it and to the bathroom. She flicked on the light and he could see it was small and shabby, but clean.

"Sit." She indicated the closed toilet. He obeyed, and watched as she pulled peroxide and other first aid from a cabinet. She opened the peroxide bottle and poured some on a cotton ball.

She removed the bandage and looked at the wound critically.

"It's not deep." He assured her.

"Arms up." She ordered.

He gave her a cheeky grin, but obliged, and gritted his teeth as, together, they removed the top. She dropped down on her knees in front of him, between his legs, to get a closer look at the wound.

"You know, while you're down there..." He began, her closeness arousing him.

She gave him a jaundiced look. "I don't think so." She wiped away some of the dried blood, and dabbed at the cut. He hissed at the sting, but stayed still.

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically, looking up at him. He stared back at her with his sightless, white eyes. "How do you see through that mask?"

"It's engineered for me to be able to see in low and normal light."

"How do you keep it on? Double-sided tape?" This was the brightest light that she had ever seen him in, and she tried, surreptitiously, to study him. Black hair, fair skin, a dusting of dark hair on his arms, scars criss-crossing his upper arms and torso, with only a few on his forearms. Beautiful, straight white teeth. A mouth that she knew so well in the dark. Nothing that she wasn't expecting.

He chuckled. "Something like that."

"So, do you have piercing blue eyes or warm brown eyes?"

"Something like that."

She turned back to her task. "It's clean. Knife, I assume?" She opened the wrapping of a large bandage.

"Yeah. Someone got too close."

"Closer than this?" She smiled, and placed the adhesive against his skin, pressing gently..

He lifted a hand to her face and leaned in. His lips teased the edge of her mouth, and then moved to her ear, and nibbled at her lobe. She gave a sigh of contentment, and lifted a hand to his naked chest. He put his other hand over hers, and guided it lower.

Just then, Cuddles, her grandmother's dog, nosed its way into the room, and came up to Devon, his tail wagging enthusiastically. He moved to Nightwing, sticking his head into the hero's crotch and shoving Devon out of the way.

"Oh, Cuddles, stop that!" She pulled the dog away with one hand. "Stupid door never closes right." She complained.

Nightwing smiled and reached out to rub the dog's head. "It's okay. Hey, fella! How you doing? Score any turkey lately?"

She looked annoyed. "He likes you better than me. Hell of a _watchdog_." She sighed. "I better get him back to Grandma before she comes looking for him." She stood. "I'm done anyway. You will take care of it when you get home – or wherever you take that uniform off, right?"

"I usually take it off in your bedroom." He stood to kiss her, but the dog, whose collar she held, yanked her away.

"I'll be right back. You go to my room."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be ready."

"I think you already are." She disappeared with the animal pulling her, and, after a swift glimpse to make sure that her grandmother was indeed _not _in the hall, he returned to her room, and, once there, stripped naked.

She returned quickly. "She was asleep, and I got rid of our audience."

She closed the door, and felt Nightwing come up behind her, gently pushing her against the wood. Imprisoning her there, he moved her hair aside and found that sensitive spot below her ear, tickling it with his tongue. She made a low sound of satisfaction in her throat, and he reached down to shove her panties off. He pressed against her with his full length, and she realized that he was nude.

"You sure you're up for this?" She asked, concerned for his injury.

"What do you think?" His voice was thick with desire.

"I think you're up for it."

* * *

They lay together afterwards, her head on his lower belly, her eyes closed, her hand lazily stroking his naked thigh. She was spent, but content.

She kissed the spot below his belly button, where the trail of dark hair that led down to his groin began. Her tongue replaced her lips, and he tightened his abdomen unconsciously.

Her teeth nipped at his flesh, and he chuckled.

"Does that tickle?" She raised her head to look at him in the darkness.

"In a good way."

"I'm glad." She lay back down on his stomach.

His hand reached down to smooth her hair.

A comfortable silence fell, and Devon concentrated on listening to his breathing. She felt a sense of calm wash over her, coupled with peace and – harmony.

She crossed her arms on his stomach, and lifted her head to look at him again. "Is it wrong that I'm happiest when I'm here, like this, with you?"

As the words came out, she'd wondered what she had just said. What _had _she said – to this man she had betrayed – and with whom, in only a matter of weeks, she had fallen in love?

And what would he say? That was, suddenly, very important.

He continued to be quiet, but his hands cupped her face, and he drew her up for a kiss. "No, it's not wrong. I kind of feel the same." _Don't show your hand, Dick, _he warned himself, even as his heart was doing somersaults at her revealing words.

She had to smile. "Kind of, huh? _That's_ a strong statement."

He tucked a section of hair behind her ear. "Just trying to follow your guidelines, you know. _Don't get involved _was a major one."

She laid her head down again, this time on his chest, right below his collar bone, their bodies in full contact, and she felt his arms come around her and his hands settle at the base of her back.

"I'm an idiot." She felt like one, but whether it was because she had told him how she felt, or _because_ of how she felt, she didn't know.

His chest rumbled with soft laughter. "Do you want to change the rules?"

She looked at him. "Do _you_?"

"I don't recall _me _telling _you_ we would only be _involved_ like this."

She sat up. "So are you ready to show me the rest of your face?"

He blushed, even though she couldn't see it. "Ah. Well."

It was her turn to laugh, and she lay down against him again. "I think this is the way it has to be." It was bitter to say that, but she knew that it was true.

"Hmm. Guess so."

"Still, it's pretty good, isn't it?" Her hand slid between them and down to grasp him.

He reacted as she knew he would. "Better than good." He grinned. "_Much _better than good."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hope you enjoyed the chapter! It was a little fluffy, but it's building to some big things some time soon. Events like Dick's birthday, Christmas, New Year's...you didn't think days like that would go smoothly in the house that the Bat built, did you?

Please review the chapter, and, also, in case you weren't aware, smgo had a meeting this past week with Warner Brothers about possibly starting a crowdfunding project to make more episodes of YJ and GLTAS. No news has come out of the meeting other than "wait and hope," which, to me, says that there is a chance of getting the shows back! So, PLEASE go to Warner Brothers ENTERTAINMENT's (not films) Facebook and Twitter pages and express support!

Symbiosi - we can do it together! : )


	37. Chapter 37

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

**November 27th**

The telephone in the diner rang, and Devon picked it up. "Fifth Street Diner."

"Marie Wakeman, please." It was a woman's voice on the line.

"I'm sorry, she's unavailable. May I help you, or take a message?"

"This is Gotham Allied Security. We're calling to set up an appointment to have our installation team come by today."

"What? Installation team?" Devon frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry. We can only speak with Mrs. Wakeman."

"I'm Devon Wakeman, co-owner of the diner."

"Ah, yes, Miss Wakeman. I see your name in our file. When is the best time to come by for installation of your new security system?"

"Security system? We didn't buy a security system. I think there's been a mistake."

"No mistake. We've been hired by Gotham Life and Mutual Casualty, the diner's insurance company."

"But I don't understand."

"There was a break-in there in the last month, wasn't there?"

"Well, yes, but –"

"Your insurance company has arranged to have a security system installed."

Devon lifted a hand to her forehead. "B – but, we – we can't afford _that_."

"Oh, no problem, Miss Wakeman. It's covered as part of your policy."

She blinked. "W – what? _Really_?"

"Yes, ma'am. When is the best time to come by for the install? Is today at noon good?"

Devon's eyes opened wide. "Uh, we're open until two. Maybe you should come by then."

"Well, ma'am, we can start in the back of the building. Your customers won't even know that we're here."

"Um, okay, then. Sure. Yeah. I guess. Twelve is fine."

"Wonderful, then, ma'am. Our team will see you then."

"Uh, thank you." She put the telephone down and looked at it, confused.

"Devon! Order up, honey!" It was George, brandishing his spatula at her through the pass window.

"Uh, yeah. Of course." She frowned, and moved to pick up the order.

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**That Morning**

**November 27th**

A text from Bruce came into Dick's phone while he was eating breakfast, and he smiled around a mouth of cornflakes at its content.

_**Alarm being installed today**_

Dick wiped his hands on his pants before picking up his phone to respond.

_Thanks_

The response was quick in coming.

_**What are fathers for?**_

Dick grinned this time.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Day**

**November 27th**

Devon watched as a workman glued a sensor onto the edge of the window in the back of the diner.

"What's that?" She asked.

"It's a motion sensor. If someone tried to open the window, or break it, it will go off. We're putting sensors on all the windows. It will make this place _completely _safe."

"Wh – what? _All _of the windows in the building? The upstairs, too?" Including her own bedroom window?

The man nodded. "If all the windows aren't secured, then none of them might as well be."

"B – but I – like to sleep with my window open." _So that my superhero boyfriend can sneak in._

Marie, who had come into the room, patted her niece on the shoulder. "It's not such a big deal, is it?"

Devon glared at her. "Says the woman who likes to keep the house at seventy-eight degrees."

The workman chuckled. "We can put an override on the system so that you can open your window. Just don't forget to reset it when you're not in the room, or else that window will never be secure."

Devon gave a silent sigh of relief. Crisis averted. "Thank you."

He smiled. "No big deal. Look, we'll be finished in a couple of hours, and then you'll be ready to learn how to use it."

Devon nodded. "Thank you."

It was not a complicated system to learn, Devon was happy to discover, for her grandmother's sake – and for the sake of the police force, who did not need to come out every time that the older woman hit the wrong button.

Because of the alarm system installation, Devon was late leaving for school, and was therefore late for her first class, Biology 317. She groaned as she peeked in through the window to see Professor Stapp passing back their papers from the day before. Seriously? He had graded them _all _in less than a week? Didn't this guy have a _life_?She was hoping that she had a couple more days to pretend that she did well.

She opened the door as quietly as possible, but, thanks to its proximity to the lectern, the teacher saw her.

"Good of you to join us, Miss Wakeman."

She blushed and ducked her head. "Sorry, Professor Stapp."

He handed her the corrected paper as she passed him, and she snatched it from his hand without looking at the grade.

The only empty seat was, of course, directly in front of him, and she slunk into it.

"Would someone like to tell Miss Wakeman the page we're on in the text?"

"423." Called a voice from the back, and Devon fumbled to turn to it.

Professor Stapp watched her with annoyance, and, with a sigh, resumed his lecture.

Devon smoothed out her paper. A "_C_." Great. A "_C_."

Fabulous.

She tried to focus on his words, but her mind wandered to her current grades – her current, _lousy _grades. She had three "_B_'s" and two "_C_'s." What a great semester.

She tried to stop thinking about it, and concentrated on the lecture until it was blissfully four fifteen, and she could get away.

As she got up to leave, Professor Stapp tapped on her desk. "Come see me during office hours."

She gave a silent groan. "Yes, Sir." She slung her backpack over her shoulder and started to leave.

"_This _week, please, Miss Wakeman. Call my assistant today or tomorrow."

She turned to him and nodded. Great. She had to speak to Wally West. Larry would be _thrilled_. "Yes, Sir."

As she left the building, she was swearing to herself. _Damn, damn, damn! The last thing that I need is for Stapp to rip me a new one._

She ran down the stairs to the bottom floor, and pushed on the fire door just as someone yanked it from the other side.

"Dick!" She skidded to a stop before she ran into him.

"Devon." His smile was genuine and gorgeous, and she wished herself a hundred miles away. "Hey."

She gave a weak smile. She had to get out of here. She had to put a campus between them. So why was she opening her mouth to speak? "Oh, hey. Get everything solved with your brother?"

His smile disappeared. "No. He's still – missing."

Her eyes opened wide. "_Missing_?! Shouldn't you call the police?"

His eyes took on a hunted look for a moment, although she may have misinterpreted it. "What?! Oh, no – no! Really. He's – done this before – when he wants space. It's okay. He'll come around."

She nodded, and anxiously adjusted her backpack straps. Why did he have to look so damn handsome in a black button-down shirt? He shouldn't be _allowed_ to wear black!

"So –" he asked nervously, "how are classes going?"

She let out a long breath. "They could be going better."

"Oh, sorry."

"Yeah, in fact, I have to call your friend, Wally, today or tomorrow – probably tomorrow."

There was that _unsettled _look again. "Wally? Why do you need to call Wally?"

"Oh, well, he's Professor Stapp's assistant. Isn't he?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. He is. I guess." He nodded rapidly.

The mention of Wally West reminded her of the conversation she had had with the redhead on the bus. "Oh, hey, Dick, I wanted to ask you – what did you tell Wally about me?"

The look was back – the one that said _I want to run away now_.

"Wha – what did _I _tell Wally?"

"That's what I said."

"Oh – not much. You know."

"Funny. Because he knows where I _live."_

"Yeah. I – I know. I must have mentioned it to him – once. I guess." He said sheepishly.

"Did you _also _mention to him that I'm dating someone else?"

His eyes widened. "N – no. _Are _you? I mean – it's none of my business. Really. Wow. I shouldn't have asked that, right?"

Her own eyes had narrowed. "No. You shouldn't have. And you're right. It _is _none of your business."

He sighed. "Devon, look. I'm _really _sorry – for everything. I shouldn't have been talking –"

She interrupted him. "No, Dick. You shouldn't have been. Okay? Now, I _really _have to go. I have another class to get to. Good luck – with your brother."

As she walked away, she could feel his eyes on her – his beautiful blue eyes. Damn his beautiful, blue eyes!

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Evening**

**November 27th **

As Nightwing drove through the night on his motorcycle, on his way to Devon's, he mentally castigated himself for his stupidity. Did he _really _have to ask Devon is she was seeing anyone else? He _knew _that she was – she was seeing _him_, for pity's sake! But, no, he had to _act _clueless – as Dick should have been – but he should have said _nothing_! Nothing was the best thing to say! Now she probably thought that he was some sort of creepy stalker!

His ear comm went off, thankfully pulling him from his thoughts. He touched it, activating it. "Nightwing."

"Nightwing. Need your assistance." It was Bruce.

"Yeah, sure. Where are you?" Devon would have to wait. His first loyalty was to the family – _always_.

"Court and Seventeenth."

The opposite direction of where he was heading. He made a right turn at the end of the block. "Be right there."

It took him only a few minutes to arrive at a scene filled with flashing police lights and four handcuffed men on the ground.

Parking his bike, he walked towards Bruce, who was conversing with Jim Gordon, Barbara's father.

"Commissioner Gordon." Dick lowered his voice and nodded at the man.

"Nightwing. It's been a long time."

"Yes, Sir."

"Excuse us, Jim." Bruce was using his Batman voice – low and gravelly and frightening to anyone who crossed him.

They walked away.

"What's up?" Dick reverted to his natural voice.

"Can you take Robin home?" Bruce did _not_ use his natural voice. "I'm going to be here a while longer, and he's – bored." He looked over to the Batmobile, where Damian sat on the hood, throwing something at a nearby wall.

"Are those _Batarangs _he's throwing?"

"I believe so."

"I'll take him off your hands."

"Thank you."

Dick walked over to his brother and stopped, his arms crossed on his chest. "Batarangs don't grow on trees, you know."

"There are fully seven gross of them in the cave."

"And that would be _how many _exactly?"

"Tt. You are among the most _ignorant _people that I have ever met."

"But I'm pretty." He grinned saucily, and Damian gave him a disgusted look. Dick elbowed him gently in the ribs. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

"On that?" He jabbed a derisive thumb at Nightwing's motorcycle.

Dick gave a slow grin. "What's wrong with my ride?"

"It's an old man's motorcycle."

"Well, that's an improvement, I guess. You _used _to call me an old _woman_."

Damian jumped off the car. "Let's go. I'll drive." He stomped towards the bike, and Dick followed.

"Oh, no, you don't. _This_ old man is the only one who's going to drive that motorcycle tonight."

Damian settled himself onto the bike, and Dick wedged himself in front of his brother, to Damian's outrage.

"Where do you want to go, Baby Bird?" Dick started the engine.

"I'm hungry."

"Are you? What do you want?" He revved the throttle.

"Pizza."

Dick nodded. "Pizza it is. I know a great place."

"I'm not putting my arms around you."

"Why not? You've done it a million times."

"But now I've also ridden behind Batgirl, and _she _is much more pleasant to embrace. She has quite an impressive bosom."

"Yeah, don't I know _that_? But you're really just trying to get me to let you drive, and I won't. So wrap yourself around me, Baby Bird, and let's go."

He throttled the bike and they took off and were at their destination in minutes. Dick parked his motorcycle at the curb and he and Damian walked to the door of the restaurant.

"We're justing going to _walk _in there – dressed like this?"

He pointed to a sign on the door. "It says shoes and shirts required. It doesn't say anything about tights and masks prohibited."

"I do _not _wear tights."

"They look pretty tight to me, little D."

"Names." Damian reminded him again.

"That was a _letter_, not a name."

"Tt." He walked through the door that Dick opened, and they were both hit by a wave of garlic aroma.

"Ah. That smells _good_. Delicious, in fact."

A waitress came up to them, disbelief and shock on her face. "Uh. For here or to go?"

"For here, please." Dick gave her a smile calculated to disarm.

She smiled backed tentatively, and led them to a booth in the back. "This good?"

"You must have served superheroes before." Dick approved of the privacy of the table, as well as its view of the entire restaurant.

"No. Just a guess." Her smile was stronger now, and her eyes now said that she was interested.

She handed them their menus as they seated themselves, lingering a bit overlong before leaving to care for the other patrons, which were few at this hour, and _all _interested in the newcomers.

"You'd think they'd never seen a superhero before." Damian sniffed as the other diners continued to gawk.

"They probably haven't. What looks good to you?"

He shrugged as he looked at the menu. "Something without nitrite-filled, processed pork products."

Dick rolled his eyes. "That's all the good stuff." He closed Damian's menu. "Come on, live a little. You're only ten once."

Damian crossed his arms on his chest. "And I want to live to be eleven."

"Pepperoni won't be the thing that kills us. It will probably be a lot more _pointy_. Or shiny."

Damian watched him unsmilingly, and Dick sighed.

"Just trust me, okay? You trust me, right? Put your life in my hands on a regular basis?"

Damian dropped his arms. "Yes."

"Okay. And, look, you don't eat it often, so it'll – be all right." He couldn't believe that he had to convince Damian to eat _junk food_.

"Fine."

Dick smiled. "Good. You'll like it."

Damian had a skeptical look on his face.

The waitress came back to the table with a basket of drippy garlic rolls.

"Uh, we didn't order these." Dick told her.

She gave a dazzling smile. "On the house. That's the least we can do for those who serve and protect."

"Oh, well – thanks." He bit into one and smiled, his mouth full. "They're good."

"We sell a lot."

"I can see why." He swallowed. "I think we're going to have a giant, five-meat pizza, and – a pitcher of diet soda."

"I don't drink diet soda." Damian sniffed.

"Okay. A regular soda for my – Robin." Dick sighed.

"Water, please." Damian countered. "Is it filtered?"

"Uh. I don't know." The waitress blinked.

Damian waved an unconcerned hand. "I suppose that it doesn't matter."

"O – kay." The waitress turned to Dick, gave him another encouraging smile, and left to put in their order.

Damian gave his brother a disapproving _tsk_. "You have low tastes, Nightwing."

"It's _just _pepperoni." He offered Damian a roll, and his younger brother took it with disapproval.

"I mean the woman who has been shamelessly _throwing _herself at you."

"Who?" Dick was confused, then realized to whom Damian was referring. "The waitress? Is she _throwing _herself at me?"

"Yes. You apparently attract working-class women."

"I do?"

"Isn't the woman you're currently having sexual relations with a waitress, as well?"

"I prefer the term _girlfriend_, but yes. She's a waitress. And there's nothing wrong with being a waitress. She works hard – an honest living, _and_ she goes to college full time."

"A veritable paragon."

"Yeah, she kind of is. She's intelligent and funny and _beautiful_ – and, if you met her, you'd probably feel the same."

"Doubtful."

"Doubtful that you'd feel that way or doubtful that you'll meet her?"

"Both, I assume – unless you intend to tell her your actual identity. And then she would probably find out mine. And Father's. So perhaps it's a good idea that you continue to have anonymous sex with her."

Just as Damian was finishing his statement, the waitress walked up with their drinks, and her eyes widened at the last five words of Damian's sentence. She flamed red, put their glasses down on the table, and hurriedly left.

Damian did not seem to notice her reaction, although Dick had to lean his chin over his hand in order to cover his smile.

Damian took a sip from his glass. "I don't believe this water is filtered."

* * *

Damian decided that pepperoni was _not _the worst thing in the world.

In fact, he decided that pepperoni was among the tastier foods that he had encountered since coming to Gotham. He would not, of course, _share _that with Nightwing. It would do him no good to let Grayson know that he was _right_ – in anything. He already had a bewilderingly healthy ego.

"So, Baby Bird...you like pepperoni?"

"It is – acceptable." Damian admitted.

Grayson grinned. "I thought that you'd find it – acceptable."

Damian shrugged. "I was very hungry, though, so perhaps my hunger influenced my palate."

"Perhaps."

Despite the fact that he did not want Grayson to feel smug, Damian had been taught, _many _times, by his father and Pennyworth, to be polite. "Thank you, Nightwing, for – bringing me here. And buying me dinner."

"Who said I'm buying?"

Damian sighed at Grayson's insouciance. "Your sense of humor is perplexing."

Grayson smiled. "I've been told that."

Damian was quiet as he chewed his pizza, watching his brother as he ate. And Grayson _was _his brother, he reflected suddenly. Oh, not by blood – Grayson's peasant stock was far below his own, but he was his brother in spirit, and in all the other ways that mattered. He was, in fact, a man that Damian knew could always be counted on to come to his aid – and that in itself was a remarkable thing. Before coming to Gotham, Damian had never been able to count – _truly _count – on anyone to be on his side all the time. Not even his mother. _Especially _not his mother. She counted success as a pre-requisite for her support. Small boys who required coddling or reassurance or soothing were not to be tolerated.

"So, how's life outside the Batcave, Baby Bird?"

"Satisfactory."

"Good to hear. Been drawing lately?"

"Some. I prefer landscapes, and nature, and it has been too cold to sketch _en plein air."_

"Why would you do that?"

"How else would I see a bird?"

"Well, you won't see it from an _airplane_!"

Damian's face scrunched in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"You said it's too cold to sketch on an airplane."

"You dolt! I said _en plein air_, not on an airplane!"

Grayson blinked. "Oh. Okay. What's that?"

Damian gave an aggravated sigh. "_En plein air _means in the open air, and it is used to mean painting or drawing outdoors."

"Ah."

"I can't believe you didn't know that!"

"Well, sorry. Computer major here. Not art major."

"Perhaps you should try to get more out of your _university _education."

"No, thanks. I'm having enough problems with my university education as it is."

"Are you failing, like Dr – _Red Robin_?"

Grayson shook his head. "Not so far. But I've had better semesters, let me tell you."

"Are your nightly sexual encounters preventing you from excelling in your classes?"

Nightwing blushed. "N – no. I don't think so. And it's not _nightly._"

Damian was unconvinced. "Hmm."

"I just have to – devote more time – in the afternoons, to studying. That's all."

"Then do so. I know that my father would not be happy to hear that the tuition that _he_ paid was wasted."

"_Our _father."

"If you insist."

"I do. I've known him longer than you have, after all."

"So?"

"So. So – I don't know. Whatever." Grayson waved his hand dismissively. "Tell me more about what _you _do during the day, since, you know, you don't go to school or anything."

Damian shrugged. "My days are my own. I work with Titus, draw, train, play the violin, do research online –" Grayson interrupted him.

"Hold it. _You_ play the violin?"

"Yes. Is that so hard to believe? It improves eye-hand coordination."

"No. It's not hard to believe, I just didn't – know. That's all."

"I've been playing for the past year."

"Really? Is someone teaching you?"

"Of course. One can't learn violin by _osmosis_. Father has employed the concertmaster of the Gotham Symphony Orchestra."

Grayson looked surprised. "_Really_? That's great! Do you have recitals?"

Damian reddened. "I'm supposed to have one at the end of the year."

Grayson covered his mouth in apparent delight. "That is _fantastic_! I'm coming. Just let me know when, and I – will – be – there!"

"No. No, Nightwing," Damian held his hands up, palms out. "You don't need to come."

"Of course I _do_. You're my _baby brother_. I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

Damian grimaced. "I'm not very good."

"I'm sure you're the best student that he has!"

"No, I'm not. Really."

"I'm sure you are. Come on, what _aren't _you good at?"

The boy smiled. "Do you really think that I'm good at everything?"

"Yes, I do. I'm proud of you. I'm always proud of you. I just wish I could show you off to the world a little more. And now I'll get a a chance to." A thought seemed to come to him. "Can I invite friends? Wally, maybe? Or Roy?"

"Names!"

Grayson waved a hand. "There are a million Wallys and Roys in the world. No one knows who I'm talking about."

"Maybe not, but _no_."

"No what?"

"No, you can't invite them. Family only."

Grayson smiled. "We'll see."

Damian, although secretly pleased, thought it best to continue to raise objections. "I shall dis-invite you."

"You can't. I'm _family_."

Damian watched him for a long moment, then sighed. "You can come."

"Thank you. With friends." Grayson said the last under his breath.

Damian smiled slightly, and looked down at his empty plate. "You know, Gr – _Nightwing_, this is quite enjoyable. Going out – with you, and just talking."

A wide smile split Grayson's face. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. We should do it more often."

This display of emotion required some tempering, however. "Not _very_ often."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Very Early the Next Morning**

**November 28th**

Dick scaled the tree outside Devon's room. The window was open, and he sighed. What good was an alarm if she left her window open?

He slid over the sill and landed silently in the middle of the room. Devon was asleep, and he crouched next to her.

He kissed her, and she came to wakefulness slowly.

He pulled away, and she smiled at him sleepily, lifting her arms to twine around his neck.

"Sorry I'm late."

She shook her head. "I don't mind. You taste like garlic."

"Sorry. Garlic rolls stay with you forever."

"It's okay." She reached for his hands, to remove his gloves.

"I actually can't stay. I just came by to – say hello."

She sat up in bed. "Oh." She sounded disappointed.

"I noticed that you got a burglar alarm."

She registered surprise. "You – noticed?"

He nodded. "Kind of – part of my job to notice things like that."

"Hmm." She walked her fingers up his chest. "The insurance company paid for it because of the break-in last month."

He took her hand gently and brought it up to his mouth, kissing each finger in turn. "Shouldn't you – use it, then?"

She was finding it hard to concentrate. "The window has to be closed."

"I can knock." He began to kiss up her arm.

"It doesn't – need to be closed. The window, I mean." She closed her eyes as he reached her neck with his lips. "I'm safe – enough." Her voice was breathy with desire.

His breath was warm on her skin, tickling her. "You should keep your window shut. I'll knock. I promise."

She nodded, and he captured her mouth again. She purred low in her throat, and brought her hands up to frame his face.

"Are you sure you can't stay?" She asked when he pulled away.

"Regretfully, no. I was out with – Robin too long, and it's –" he looked at the clock. "Almost four. You have to be up in an hour."

"I don't need any more sleep." Her tone was sly and her smile seductive.

He chuckled. "Devon, there is nothing that I would like more than to spend the rest of the night with you, but I have to go."

She sighed, and lay back. "Fine. You don't know what you're missing."

He shook his head. "Oh, I know. Believe me, love, I _know_."

* * *

**Author's Note: **With all the Damian angst in my life right now, I felt compelled to write a fluffy Damian chapter, with a little bit from Dami's point of view at the end.

However, I did drop a little bit of an ironic twist when Damian said that he wouldn't eat pepperoni because he wanted to live to be eleven, and Dick assured him that their end would come with some pointy or shiny...

Time for me to have a little cry again.

P.S. Some good news – we get a Damian recital later on... : )

PLEASE, PLEASE review! I haven't gotten many reviews lately! : (


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's Notes: **Thanks to sunflower13 for her betareading! : )

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

**November 28th**

The alarm on Devon's phone went off at nine A.M. Time to call Dr. Stapp.

She smiled at the man at the counter as she poured him a cup of coffee, and, then, after putting the pot back, she walked to the ladies' room and pulled her phone from her pocket.

She looked around her. Since Nightwing had – indulged in the fantasy about the ladies' room, she couldn't be in here without remembering that night. It was a nice memory.

She pulled up Dr. Stapp's contact card and called the number.

It was answered on the second ring.

"Dr. Stapp's office." Wally's familiar voice came on the line.

"Uh, hi – Wally. This is Devon. Devon Wakeman."

There was a brief pause. "Oh. Hi. Devon." He sounded dismayed.

"Yeah. Hi. Um – Dr. Stapp told me to call you to get an appointment to see him."

"Oh. Okay. That's – okay. Hang on. Let me get his schedule on the screen. Did he say _when _he wanted to see you?"

"This week." She nervously fiddled with the faucet handle on the sink, turning it on and off repeatedly.

"Oh. Okay. He has an appointment – oh, today. At two. You want that?"

"Oh. Uh. No. Probably not. I'll still be at work. Does he have anything – else? I mean, if he doesn't, I'll take it. Of course." She ended in a rush.

"No, no, of course. It's fine. Let me see." He was silent for a moment. "How about tomorrow – or Friday? He has _two _appointments tomorrow – oh, but they're in the morning. And one on Friday at – three. Can you do three on Friday?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Three on Friday is – good. Thanks."

"No problem. See you on Friday, then. I guess."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks. Uh, bye." Devon ended the call and looked at the phone. "Well, that was awkward."

* * *

Wally put down the office phone. "Well, that was awkward." He made a notation on Dr. Stapp's schedule. "Oh, crap. Friday is November _30__th__." _He pulled his own phone from his pocket and dialed Dick's number.

Dick answered on the first ring. "Hey, buddy."

"Dude, you know what day it is?"

"Uh, Wednesday."

Wally squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. "The _date_."

"Um, let me check. Hang on." It sounded as if Dick pulled the phone away from his ear.

"Dude! Dude!" Wally called into the phone. "I _know _what the date is. It's November 28th!"

"Then why'd you ask?" Dick came back.

Wally sighed. "Your birthday is on Saturday!"

Dick sighed in response. "Yeah. I know."

"Don't you _get _it? Your _birthday _is on a _Saturday_. We haven't gone out and done your birthday right since –"

"Last year?" Dick's voice was dry.

"No...remember, last year Lian was sick and Roy couldn't make it."

"Oh, yeah."

"So, this year, let's get shit-faced. We'll get Kaldur and Mal and Conner and Roy and go to town."

Wally heard Dick give a weak chuckle. "I don't know, Wally. I'm – kind of not in the mood to go out."

Wally frowned. "Why not?"

Dick gave a deep sigh. "Jason kind of had – a breakdown on Thanksgiving."

"Dude! You didn't tell me!"

"I know. We're trying to keep it – under wraps."

"From _me_?"

"It wasn't on purpose. I've just been – busy."

"Yeah, I know. Constant sex can really eat into your leisure time."

Dick chuckled. "Kind of."

"Hey, listen – I'm sorry about Jason."

"Thanks. Hey, if he comes by your place – which he _totally _won't, call me."

Wally's eyes opened wide. "Yeah. I will. But, _come on_, Dick! Your _birthday_! You only turn 22 once!"

"Wally..." Dick groaned.

"Come on! You know you want to! It'll be fun!"

This time, Dick laughed. "Okay. But no presents. Got it?"

"Got it."

Do you _really _think you can get all of them here?"

"What?! For your birthday? Of course! I'm _sure _they wouldn't miss it for the world!"

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Evening**

**November 28th**

Wally touched the "End" button on his phone and sighed, turning to Artemis. "Babe, I think they're going to miss Dick's birthday."

Artemis looked up from her laptop. "Who? _All _of them?"

Wally sighed and shook his head. "Conner and Mal are in, but Kaldur and Roy don't know if they can make it."

Artemis's eyes narrowed. "Oh, _really_? _Both _those boys owe me, _big time_. Give me that phone." She took the phone from her fiancé, and left the room.

Wally smiled and turned to Brucely, who sat in the middle of the floor watching him. "Mama's working. Want to go for a walk?"

Brucely's tail thumped on the floor, and Wally grabbed his leash and attached it to the dog's collar.

Wally whistled as he closed the front door behind them, and bounded down the front step. He was just turning onto the sidewalk when an unfamiliar car drove up. "Hey, Handsome, need a ride?"

Startled, he looked into brown eyes that he had known since he was fifteen. "Megan!" He smiled widely at the Martian, who was currently disguised as Megan Morse. Beyond her, at the wheel of the car, sat Barbara Gordon. "Babs! New car?"

Barbara smiled at him. "Gift from my dad to celebrate my getting into Columbia."

"Artemis told me! Congratulations on that!"

"Thanks."

"What are you ladies doing in this part of town?"

Megan held up a piece of paper. "Got a certificate for _five _free yoga classes, and thought Artemis might be interested. Is she home?"

He pointed his thumb towards the building. "Yeah. She's on the phone, reading Kaldur and Roy the riot act."

Barbara frowned. "Why?"

"They don't think that they can make Dick's birthday-boys-night-out on Saturday."

"Oh, yeah, Conner texted me about that a couple of minutes ago." Megan grinned. "He's excited."

Wally's brows rose. "Conner's _excited_?" Superboy rarely displayed much emotion - except for anger, although, to be fair to him, he had gotten _much _better over the years.

Megan shrugged. "I know that he doesn't show his feelings much, but he _has _them." She turned to Barbara for support. "Still waters run deep, you know."

Barbara nodded. "It'll be good for Dick to get out. He's been upset about Jason."

"Yeah, I know, but he _just _told me about that today. Why didn't he tell me when it _happened_?" Wally's feelings had been hurt by Dick's exclusion of him.

Barbara waved a hand in the air. "Don't feel bad. I had to find out about it from _Tim_." She patted Megan on the shoulder. "Let me go find out if Artemis is interested."

Megan and Wally watched as Barbara entered the house, then Wally turned back to his friend with a smile.

There was a long, companionable silence until Megan spoke. "Artemis showed me the hope chest last week. It's beautiful."

Wally grinned. "Thanks. Now," his face dropped, "if she'd only set the date."

"She just wants to wait until you graduate."

"I know." He nodded, and then a brilliant idea came to him. "Hey, _maybe_, if you and _Conner _decided to get married, we could have a double ceremony!"

A momentary look of wistfulness, followed by resignation, followed. "I – I don't think marriage is in the cards for us, Wally."

"What? Why not? You guys are _perfect _together."

She shook her head. "There's not really a _reason _to get married. I mean, it's not like we're ever going to have kids or anything. And – we're happy the way that we are."

Wally did not believe her, but did not want to press it. "That's a valid lifestyle choice."

"Thank you." Megan smiled.

Barbara and Artemis came jogging out of the house then, and the latter gave Wally a kiss. "Going for yoga, babe."

"Get limber." He smiled at her, and opened the door for her to climb in.

"Oh, Babs, this car is _gorgeous_!" Artemis smiled and ran her hands over the upholstery.

"Thanks! Buckle up."

Artemis did as she was bade, and Wally leaned in for one more kiss. "Have fun." He smiled.

"I will. Oh, and count on Kaldur and Roy for Saturday. Text them the details."

"Babe, you are a magician."

"That's Zatanna. I just had to _remind _them how much they owe me."

"Whatever works."

He stepped back as the car pulled away from the curb and waved as it moved down the street.

He looked down at Brucely, who was sitting patiently, waiting for him. "Let's go, boy." Whistling, he started off down the sidewalk.

Life was good.

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**That Night**

**November 28th **

Dick suited up in the garage beneath his apartment building, absently pulling on his gloves and adjusting his mask before strapping on his wrist computer. He was patrolling Blüdhaven tonight, thanks to a call from Bruce earlier in the day.

"Hey, Bruce." Dick had just finished his last class, as he suspected Bruce knew, and was on his way to his car.

"There's been a nine percent increase in violent crime in Blüdhaven in the past month. Did you know that?"

Right down to business. "Wow, you got stats and everything."

"It made the news, too."

"I thought you wanted me to cut back."

"It seems like you've _given up_, not cut back."

"Maybe I have. Is that a problem?" Dick was miffed at Bruce's aspersions.

"A elderly couple was the victim of a home-invasion robbery last night. The husband was nearly beaten to death. Is _that _a problem?"

Dick stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and squeezed his eyes shut. Shit. On his watch. "Yeah. It is."

"So, are you going patrolling tonight?"

Dick started walking again. "Yeah. I'll be out."

"Be careful."

Dick expelled a deep breath. "I will."

So now he stood, in the middle of his own "Batcave," getting ready to go out and fight the good fight. He was going to go out, and he was going to bust some heads open. And hopefully not get his own busted in the process.

He got on his motorcycle and, as he waited for the garage door to open, he put on his helmet. He didn't wear his helmet often, but, when he wore it, he was more inconspicuous, and he felt like he needed that tonight.

He had to admit, as he drove through the streets, that driving around the Haven felt good. It was a cold, clear night, and the lights of the city made the dingy buildings appear almost luminous.

He found himself going into the seedier section of the city. Good. He needed information, and he couldn't get the kind that he needed anywhere else.

He drove up to The Barrel House, a bar known for fights and illegal drugs and loose-lipped felons, and climbed off his bike. He wouldn't go in – that would be not only asking for problems, but would get him _no _leads.

No, he would wait out here until a likely snitch came out.

He did not need to wait long. A petty drug dealer named Eddie came staggering out, and Dick grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the alley.

"I ain't got no money! Please!" He put his hands in front of his face.

"I don't want money, Eddie." Dick pushed him against the wall and put a forearm against his windpipe.

"N – Nightwing." Eddie's jaw began shaking. "I – I haven't done nothing. Really!"

Nightwing's brow arched beneath his mask. "Why would you say that now, Eddie? Seems like you might have a –" he pushed on the man's throat, "guilty conscience."

Eddie shook his head frantically. "No! No! Really! I ain't done _nothing_! I swear!" His voice was constricted by Dick's arm.

"Well, good. Maybe I believe you."

Eddie's head bobbed up and down. "You can! I _swear _it!"

Nightwing released the pressure on his windpipe. "Maybe you can tell me something, then."

"Anything! Anything!"

"A home invasion last night. Avalon Hill. You know anything about it?"

Eddie's eyes darted away, a sure sign that he was hiding something. Nightwing slapped his face lightly. "Come on, Eddie. You know something."

"Nah. Nah. I don't. Really."

"Sure you do. What do I have to do to convince you to tell me?"

"Nothing, man, because I don't know _nothing_." He tried to pull away, but Nightwing caught him and slammed him against the wall again.

"I think you do. Don't make me _make _you tell me."

"Let me go, man! I told you I don't know _nothing_!" A note of hysteria was creeping into his voice.

"Hey, Eddie – what's going on here?" A group of four men appeared at the mouth to the alley.

"Nightwing's trying to shake me down!" Eddie said in a quavering voice.

Dick turned to him in disbelief. "What? No, I'm not!"

"Oh, really? This your new gig now, _superhero_?" The first man sneered, advancing into the alley, followed by his cohorts. "You shaking down the little guy? Getting some _protection _money?"

Dick held one hand up at the man while still keeping a hand against Eddie's throat. "Guys, just back off now and mind your own business. I'm _not _shaking him down."

"You're damn right you're not!" Eddie's savior threw a punch at Dick, who, thanks to years of training, caught his fist, and flung it back.

Bedlam broke out then, and Dick suddenly found himself facing four enraged petty criminals, and was forced to release his hold on Eddie to fight them. The drug dealer bolted down the alley, and Nightwing stared after him in impotent fury as his attention was claimed by the others.

They came at him in waves, two at a time, and he turned to his instinct, fighting them off with his fists and his escrima sticks, until they were all down and not getting back up.

"Shit!" He started down the alley after Eddie, but the man was long gone, and Nightwing groaned and ran his hands through his hair. Eddie was the only lead that he had. He _knew _something – Dick was sure of it. But how would he find him again? He was sure _not _to return to the Barrel House – at least not tonight.

Dick sighed and returned to his motorcycle, being careful not to step on Eddie's good Samaritans. "Sorry, guys. Your altruism was a little misplaced tonight."

He put his helmet back on and, climbing onto his bike, rode back into the night.

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**Very Early the Next Morning**

**November 29th **

When Dick got home, it was nearly 3:30, and, after a long night hunting down leads and beating up petty criminals, he was exhausted. He had broken open his stitched arm, and knew that Alfred would have his head the next day. He had been a little reckless, completely counter to _everything _that he had ever been taught by Batman, but, after the lecture that he had received from Bruce, he wanted to go out and _prove _that he still cared.

And he did care. He really did. He liked protecting people – and he liked the thrill of it. No, he _loved _it. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to keep doing it for the rest of his life. He had been thinking more and more about marriage, and about fatherhood. Seeing Roy with Lian before Thanksgiving had made him realize that he wanted what his friend had – a child. Someone to love, and mold, and guide, and teach. And he wanted a wife. Someone to lean on, to confide in, to laugh with, to love. Someone like – Devon.

_My God, Dick, make up your damn mind_, he thought as he showered. _One minute all you want to do is keep being Nightwing, the next you're dreaming about knocking up Devon_!

He exited the shower and toweled off, and threw himself into bed, naked, wishing that he was crawling into bed with Devon.

Coming home after patrolling and falling asleep next to Barbara had been one of the great joys of their relationship. Unlike Zatanna, with whom he had broken up before moving out of Wayne Manor, and Raquel, who never liked to sleep over, he and Barbara had slept many nights together. There were many nights when either he or Barbara had come home from patrolling to fall into bed, and into the other's arms, and it was one of the things that he missed most after they had broken up.

And he wanted that again. He wanted to gather a sleepy woman into his arms and feel her warmth and her softness, and feel her feathery lips against his in an affectionate, sleepy kiss.

He didn't want to be alone anymore.

It was common knowledge among those in Dick's life that he was the "touchy-feely" member of the Bat family. He had a thirst for human contact – he ached for the touch of those he loved. He had been the first, in all of his serious relationships, to say that he was in love the other, and he had never been shy about his feelings and his need for physical contact. His past girlfriends, in fact, agreed, privately, that his need for physical intimacy was probably what made him such a sensitive lover. He was never the type of man to forgo "cuddling."

And he wanted someone to fold into his arms right now.

Damn it.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Two Days Later**

**November 30th **

Devon stepped into Dr. Stapp's office, closing the door behind her softly. Wally sat at a small desk in one small corner of the small room, and Devon cleared her throat.

Wally looked up. "Oh. Hi, Devon. Here for your appointment?" He blushed at the apparent inanity of his question. "Oh. Of course you are. Right. You want to have a seat? I'll – tell him you're here."

He disappeared into a back room and came back quickly. "He'll be just a minute. You want to – sit down?" He indicated a chair, and she nodded.

"Thanks." She smiled at him wanly.

He returned the smile and sat at his desk.

Devon sat in awkward silence for a few minutes. "Uh, so. Do you work here every day – in Dr. Stapp's office, I mean?"

"What?" Wally pulled his eyes from his computer. "Oh. Oh. No. I mean – I take classes, of course. And I have my own office hours. In my own office, I mean. I just man this office a couple of hours a day."

"Oh. That's – interesting."

"Yeah. Yeah. I guess."

She thought of Larry's plan for Wally, and she regretted, for not the first time, her own involvement. She thought that she ought to, perhaps, try to advance her mission, but she found she had no stomach for it. Still, maybe she should – _try_.

"So, uh – Wally." She had _no _idea what to say.

He looked at her expectantly.

"How's your – dog?" She was grasping at straws to find something in common with him. Except, of course, they had Dick in common. She wouldn't think of that.

"Oh, Brucely? He's good. He's such a funny dog."

"Yeah. He's – sweet."

"Yeah. He is. He's a bull terrier, you know. Sweetest dogs around – no matter what the media wants to tell you."

She smiled. "I know. They get a bad rap."

He seemed relieved to find that she was of a like mind. "Yeah. Yeah, they _have_."

"Have you had him a long time?"

"Since he was a pup. He and his littermates and his mom were actually rescued from a puppy mill."

"That's horrible – that he was in a puppy mill, I mean. Not that you adopted him."

He laughed. "No. I know what you meant. He was the _cutest _little puppy. Artemis fell in love with him at first sight."

"Uh – Artemis?"

"Yeah. My fiancée."

"Oh. Oh. You're – engaged." It wasn't just a girlfriend. It was a fiancée! That changed things, in her mind.

He smiled. "Yeah. We've been together for almost nine years."

"Wow. That's – amazing. You must really love her."

"She's the best thing that ever happened to me."

Just then, Dr. Stapp came to the door of his office. "Miss Wakeman?"

Devon stood, and gave one last smile to Wally. "Good talking to you, Wally." And it had been. The conversation had convinced her that she couldn't ruin his life, Larry be damned.

She followed the professor into his office, and he closed the door behind them.

"Have a seat." He indicated the chair before his desk, and she sat nervously.

He sat behind his own desk, and looked at Devon. "I suppose you know why I wanted to see you, Miss Wakeman."

"Because my grades have dropped."

He nodded. "Yes. Across the board, unfortunately, in your major." He peered at his computer screen. "You had an 'A' average last year – until you began taking upper level classes. Now, unfortunately, unless something changes _drastically_, you'll end up with 'C's' in your major classes this semester, which will bring your overall grades in your major to 'B minus.' Not really ideal."

She sighed, and he continued. "What's changed in your life?"

She shook her head. "I – I don't know. I – I've lost interest, I guess."

He looked disappointed. "Is there anything else? New job, perhaps? Anything else new that's claiming your time or attention?"

_Nightwing_. "I've – I've got a – boyfriend, now."

"Ah." He said with satisfaction, as if the answer was expected. "I guess you need to decide which is more important to you – your education or your love life."

She blushed, and was silent.

"Your studies so far have just been _science_. Some biology, some chemistry. What exactly are you intending as your _actual _major?"

"I – I haven't decided, really."

"Well, what do you want to do once you graduate? Graduate work?"

She shook her head emphatically. "No. I – I can't afford to. I have to get a job. One that makes decent money."

"Well, what do you expect to do with a four year degree in science? School teacher?"

Her eyes widened. "No. I – I need more money that that. I have to support my grandmother. We own the diner, but it doesn't make enough money to even afford health insurance. And I don't want to be a waitress forever."

"No. No. I can understand that. What were you thinking of, then?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I thought – maybe a pharmaceutical rep."

"Oh." There was a tone of disapproval in his voice. "That's more sales than science."

"I know. It's true. But, supposedly, if you're, you know, young – and pretty, you can make – a lot of money on commissions."

"I see. Well, I won't pretend to be _thrilled _by your career choice. The pursuit of science for _science's_ sake – for the sake of discovery - that's what I had hoped that you would say."

"To be frank, Sir, I'm too poor to be idealistic."

Stapp drew in a deep breath. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

Devon didn't know what to say; she was sorry that she felt that way, too, but she had to be practical.

He sighed. "Well, thank you, Devon, for coming in and talking to me. Just – keep your grades up. Tell your boyfriend that your education comes first."

"Yes, Sir. I will."

As Devon walked from the science building, her mind was in turmoil. Her school career was in a freefall, and her burgeoning career in thuggery was in trouble. She would not go forward with Larry's plan to coerce Wally into giving up the identities of his superhero friends. She couldn't – she just _couldn't_. _How _could she live with herself if she ruined his life? Larry wanted her to seduce Wally away from his girlfriend, and convince him to betray everyone he had ever loved, and everything that he had ever believed in.

And she _wouldn't _do it.

But, now, what _would _she do? Larry had tacitly threatened her and her grandmother if Devon didn't succeed in her _mission_. How could she extricate herself from this _mess_?

She didn't know how she would do it, but she had until the end of the semester to figure it out.

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**That Night **

**November 30th **

Dick looked with satisfaction at the police crime scene from his vantage point on the top of a nearby building. A small group of men were being loaded into the back of squad cars – the men guilty of the recent string of home-invasion robberies. The men that Dick had tracked down – with the _eventual _help of Eddie the snitch. Dick had run Eddie to ground coming out of his favorite bookie's office, and had _persuaded _Eddie to give up the information he had – that one of the members of the gang frequented a certain brothel in the Zee Moore projects.

After that, it was fairly simply to track down the rest of the gang at their hideout in the City Docks section, and, after introducing the thugs to his escrima sticks, he called the police.

He was watching the police bring out evidence from the warehouse when his cell phone buzzed, and he looked at the caller.

It was Tim.

"Hey, bro. What's shaking up in Princeton?" Dick smiled.

"Uh, actually, I'm _not _in Princeton." Tim's voice was sheepish.

"K. Where are you – at the Manor?"

"No, actually, I'm in Blüdhaven."

Although Dick was momentarily disappointed that he would probably not get to go see Devon, his time with Tim these days was minimal, and he – missed him. "Oh, hey! Let's hang out."

"Bruce said that you were busy cleaning up the city."

"For the time being. Blüdhaven never stays clean for long."

"How did you it?"

"Good, old-fashioned detective work."

"You beat some people up."

Dick grinned. "Basically."

"So – those home invasions on the news - were you able to identify the guys responsible?"

"Identified them, crippled them, and turned them into the police."

"Good job!"

"Thanks. So, you see, I am _free _and clear to hang with you."

"Uh, well, as to that..." Tim trailed off.

"What?"

"Uh, well, _actually_, Cassie _kind of –_ zeta'd here, and..."

"And?"

"I was hoping that she and I could – go to your place – for a little _alone_ time."

"What? Dude, you have your _own _apartment – in Princeton!"

"Yeah, well, Cassie _promised _her mom and Wonder Woman that she wouldn't go to Princeton – after the _Thanksgiving _incident, and, you know, with Wonder Woman having the Lasso of Truth and all..."

"You're trying to circumvent the Lasso of Truth? Never going to work, bro."

"Yeah, but if they ask her if she went to Princeton, which is the thing that she was _expressly _forbidden to do, she can answer truthfully that she didn't."

"And if they ask her _expressly_ if she had sex with you, what is she going to say then?"

"They won't ask. They're scared of the answer."

"Well, shit." Dick sighed. He knew, of course, that Tim and Cassie were – intimate, but he had never been asked to collude with them. But, if he didn't, they'd probably just end up doing it in the back of a car somewhere. "Fine. Go ahead. But you _better _use a condom. They're next to my bed. Use two."

"Thanks, Dick! I will. Not two, probably, but at least one."

"Yeah. Okay. And change the sheets."

"Before or after?"

"What kind of question is _that_? You never want to roll around in someone else's funk."

"Did you say funk or spunk?"

"I'm hanging up. Just change the damn sheets."

"And you won't be back tonight? You'll go to the Manor?"

"Eventually, I guess. But if you're going to get laid, so am I."

"Oh. Okay. Enjoy."

"Uh, thanks. You, too."

"Believe me, I will."

Dick was about to hang up, but Tim's voice stopped him.

"Thanks, Dick. Oh, yeah, Cassie says to tell you happy early birthday."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Very Early the Next Morning**

**December 1st **

"Wow. I missed that." Dick laid a quick kiss on Devon's forehead as she curled up against him.

When he had arrived at her window, tapping quietly, she had opened it in an instant, and they had found themselves naked and on her bed within a minute.

"Hmm. Me, too. You know, I never used to be this _sex-crazed_."

"I'm a bad influence." He grinned at her cheekily.

His text alert on his phone went off, and puzzled, he reached for it. No one ever texted him this late at night unless it was an emergency.

Devon watched him as he rolled over, and, with a devilish smile, nipped at the curve of one of his butt cheeks. "You have the most amazing ass I have ever seen."

He swiped the screen. It was Barbara.

_**Happy birthday, Hunk Wonder.**_

It _was _after midnight. He chuckled, and turned back over. "Yours is pretty perfect, too." He smiled at Devon.

"You have to say _that_ – or else I won't let you touch it." She settled back into the circle of his arms.

"That's not true. I noticed yours the first time I ever saw you." He remembered that day in the student union, and how good she had looked in that skirt.

She frowned. "You saw my butt that night?"

His eyes widened behind his mask. _Shit_! A slip-up like that could be catastrophic! His mind raced. "Oh, yeah. You – bent down – to a cabinet to get a first-aid kit. In the kitchen."

"Oh. Right. I was only wearing a t-shirt and underwear. What was I _thinking_?"

He gave a purr of contentment in remembrance. "I wish all my rescues could be like that."

"I _hope_ they're not!"

He chuckled. "Not typically."

"Hmm. Good. Was it an emergency?"

"What? The text? No. Just happy birthday." He regretted his words a second after they slipped from him. Shit. Too late now.

She pulled away and sat up, a smile curving her lips. "What?! It's your birthday? How old are you?"

He sat up, too. "Oh. Well. I'm not sure if I can – tell you. Secret identity, and all. You know." He was embarrassed at the need for subterfuge.

She felt a momentary resentment, but pushed it away. She had signed up for this – and she couldn't be miffed because he was just sticking to his end of the deal. "Oh – oh. I – no, it's okay. Just – _please_ tell me you're at _least _nineteen."

He laughed. "Yeah. I guess I can tell you that. I'm firmly in my 20's. But what does it matter if I'm older than nineteen?"

She laughed as he lay down. "If you're not nineteen or older, it means that I've been – corrupting a minor."

"Oh. I get it." He laughed and put his hands behind his head. "No worries there."

"Good." She kissed him at the corner of his mouth, and began kissing down his chin, over his neck, and onto his chest.

He gave a sound of contentment.

"Well, happy birthday, Nightmare." She teased him as she worked her way down his torso with her lips. "I may not have been the first to wish you a happy birthday, but..." Her mouth continued its downward journey, and he drew in a deep breath as she reached her goal. "I'll be the first to give you a birthday present."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Dick's birthday has already started out well. He – ahem – got a nice birthday pick-me-up from Devon. If only her life were going as smoothly. School seems to be spiraling out of control, and her mission from Larry seems to be kaput.

I hope you liked M'gann's inclusion. It's time I brought her in, don't you think?

Next up: Dick's birthday - and his party with the boys, including the first appearance of Kaldur and Conner!

PLEASE review - I'm needy that way! : )


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Notes: **Spring has sprung with fury here in my part of the world, and I have been VERY busy with my gardening. I put in pumpkins and other various squash, as well as six sassy tomato plants – and, as the end of my kid's school year draws near, I'm doing more and more to help him finish it off right! Why am I telling you this, you ask? Well, it's because, for those of you "Spirit Within" readers, it means no new chapter today. : ( It's a HUGE mea culpa on my part – I have been neglecting Zuko & Lan terribly. BUT, I luckily still have plenty of Dick & Devon chapters in reserve – thank goodness I went through a writing binge a couple of months ago! Anyway, thanks for reading, and thanks to sunflower13 for her betareading!

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

**December 1st **

"Grayson, wake up."

Dick opened his eyes to find his youngest brother standing over him, shaking his arm.

"What is it?" Dick rubbed his eyes and looked around.

"It's morning."

"I see that."

"And your birthday."

"I know." The birthday boy yawned.

"Are you going to sleep your entire birthday away?"

Dick looked at the clock next to his bed. "It's not even ten o'clock."

He looked at Dick unblinkingly. "Don't you usually go for a run in the morning?"

"Not on my birthday!"

"Tt. You'll get fat."

"I'll chance it."

"Father and I have a birthday present for you."

A slow grin came to Dick's face. "You do?"

"Of course. Father would not let your birthday go by without some token of affection."

"A token of affection, huh? Sounds promising." Dick sat up.

"And I understand that Pennyworth has made you breakfast. He was going to bring it up to you, but I assured him that you would come down."

"Well, thank you, Damian. I guess I'll get up." He threw back his covers and climbed from bed.

He obediently followed Damian from the room and down to the kitchen.

Alfred smiled when he saw him. "Good morning, Master Richard! Happy birthday!" He embraced Dick, then put the younger man away from him. "My goodness, aren't you a bit – _cold _in just your briefs?"

Dick looked down at himself, clad only in underwear, and shrugged. "Not particularly."

"Perhaps I should have gotten you a _robe _for your birthday."

"Alfred, just you being _you _is a gift in itself."

"Thank you, Sir. Despite that sentiment, I _did _get you a gift."

"You didn't have to."

"I know that I did not, but I wanted to. I shall present to you with your cake, this evening."

"Ooh. Devil's food?"

"Of course."

"I can't wait."

Alfred turned to the youngest Wayne. "Master Damian, aren't you taking Master Dick _belowstairs_?"

"Yes, I was planning to. If he wants to go down there _practically _naked, that is no concern of mine."

Dick smiled. "I'll be fine."

Alfred's look was disapproving. "Breakfast will be waiting for you, Master Dick."

"Thank you, Alfred."

"Pennyworth, let Father know that we are on our way down."

"Yes, Mater Damian."

Damian led Dick down into the Batcave. "I don't know why you insist upon walking around half-naked, Grayson."

Dick shrugged and scratched his chest. "Some of the best moments of my life were spent naked. Like being born, for example."

"And _other_ things, I assume."

"Yes. Other things."

Bruce was soldering the joints of one of the Batsuits, and looked up as his youngest and oldest sons came in. "Happy birthday, Dick." He stood and looked at Dick awkwardly.

"Thanks, Bruce." Dick smiled and impulsively hugged his father, who returned the embrace quickly and a bit stiffly.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Really, Grayson, must you always be so _mawkish_?"

Dick pulled away and pointed at his brother. "That's my big word. Don't steal it."

"The word is uniquely suited to your excessively emotional outbursts."

"Damian, please." Bruce interrupted. "We're here to give Dick his gift."

Dick rubbed his hands together in mock avarice. "Ooh, yeah, my _gift_."

Bruce pointed to a sheet-shrouded object in the middle of the automotive bay.

Dick gave a slow smile and walked over to it. "What is it?"

"You could uncover it and find out." Bruce pointed out.

Trying to subdue his childish desire to jump up and down and clap his hands in excitement, Dick pulled the sheet off to reveal a sleek silver and black motorcycle. His eyes widened, his hand went to his mouth, and he took two steps back.

Holy shit...that's for _me_?" He could not believe his eyes.

Bruce nodded, a small smile on his face.

"It's a Honda CBR1100XY _Blackbird_." Damian recited triumphantly. "Because you used to be a Robin, you know."

Dick nodded slowly, and circled around the bike, dumbstruck. It was beautiful, with a long, aerodynamic saddle and a body that looked almost futuristic.

"It's – beyond description." Dick breathed.

"Do you like it?" Bruce's voice was almost – uncertain.

"Like it? I _love _it! It's _gorgeous_! It's the most beautiful thing that I've ever seen." He looked at Bruce again. "It's _really _mine?"

"Yes."

"It's a limited production model with a 1200 CC, liquid-cooled, four cylinder engine. It can reach speeds of 210 miles per hour, and is 156 horse power at 10,000 RPM." Damian seemed ready to burst from pride. "I picked it out."

"I don't know what to say."

"_Thank you_ is a good start." Bruce reminded him gently.

Dick laughed. "Thank you! Thank you isn't enough!" He threw himself at Bruce and gave him a bear hug and turned to Damian. He picked the boy up and swung him around and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "Thank you _so _much! It's incredible." He set Damian down and turned to the bike, running his fingers reverently over the motorcycle's body.

"I ordered two. I'm having the second modified for Nightwing. Painted black, with a _few _little extras."

Dick goggled at him. "What? Why? My old motorcycle is fine!"

"Dick, I've driven that motorcycle _twice _in the past month. I'm surprised it hasn't stranded you somewhere."

"But – if we're giving it all up..." Dick trailed off.

"Even if you only use it for six months, if it's reliable and safer than your current model, it's worth the price to me."

Dick was beaming. "Thank you, Bruce. Thank you _so _much. I don't know what else to say. Words seem so..." he looked at his father. "Inadequate."

Bruce nodded. "I know you're grateful, Dick. Why don't you go upstairs and get breakfast, put some clothes on, and you can take it out for a spin."

"Will you take me with you, Grayson?"

"Of course, Baby Bird! As if I would leave behind the person who chose _this_ for me!"

"Helmets, Dick. For both of you. Primarily because you've never driven it before, and, also, no need to advertise whose bike it is."

"Will do." Dick gave a thumbs up.

"I didn't get the matching helmet for you. I'm having a custom, reinforced one made. You need to go to Wayne Tech for measurements of your head."

"I can wear my old one for now."

"Fine. I'll get the bike ready, then."

"Thanks, Bruce. You're the best." Dick gave into his impulse to clap exuberantly, and headed for the house, Damian hot on his heels.

"Father wanted to get you the BMW, but this one is faster, and it's called the _Blackbird_, and I just _knew _that it was perfect for you." His younger brother gushed, close behind him.

"You were right. It is perfect." He waited for Damian, and put his arm around his shoulders. "It means a lot to me that you picked it out."

Damian shrugged self-consciously. "This family has an image to maintain, you know."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

**December 1st**

Dick spied his friends standing outside the Buffalo Head Bar, beers in their hands, laughing and chatting, and he slid into a motorcycle parking space at the curb. He revved his engine obnoxiously, causing all heads to turn, and removed his helmet with a grin.

"Dick!"

"Dude! Nice ride!"

Choruses of exclamations came from his friends as they gathered around him. Wally slapped him on the back. "Dick! Where'd you get this _sweet _ride?"

"Birthday present from Bruce."

"Nice." Roy ran his hand over the steering.

"Want to take it out?"

"Hell, yeah! How fast does it go?"

"55 in city limits."

Roy laughed. "I get it." He lifted up the bottle he held in his hand. "And you'll be happy to know it's a non-alcoholic beer."

"Never thought it was anything else." Roy's past as an alcoholic and a drug user was, happily, still in the past.

"I'm designated driver tonight." The archer continued.

"I think I might be engaging your services later, then." Dick held out the helmet and climbed off the bike.

"Don't need it, buddy." Roy handed his beer to Wally, and Dick tucked the helmet under his arm. "Nice. Four cylinders. What's the horsepower?"

"156, with top speed of 210." Dick pointed at Roy. "Don't do it."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Got a wife and kids at home, you know." He jumped on, revved the throttle, and, with a roar of the engine, took off.

Dick watched him drive off, then turned to the others and spread his hands. "Here I am, the birthday boy. Where's my birthday beer?"

Conner came up to him. "Come inside. Kaldur and Mal are holding down the bar."

"Good men." He followed Conner and Wally into the bar, and found his other two teammates bellied up to the bar. "Here he is!" Wally announced loudly. "The guest of honor!"

Kaldur smiled and extended his hand, which Dick accepted warmly. "Dick. You look well."

"Thanks, Kaldur. You, too." He pulled his old friend into an embrace, and Kaldur's arms went around him briefly. "I'm so glad you could come."

"I, too, am pleased that I could be here." He stepped back. "May I buy you a beer, old friend?"

"You bet." He turned to Mal as Kaldur hailed the bartender. "Hey, Mal."

"Hey, man." He gripped Dick's forearm, and Dick did the same. "Long time."

"How's Karen?"

"Good. She's _officially _getting her Ph.D. in June."

"Amazing. She always was the smartest."

"Yes, she is."

"Set the date yet?"

"She says when she gets a job. And then _I _get a job wherever she ends up."

"She looking at STAR Labs?"

"Yeah. Maybe Taos. Or Boston."

"Which do you want?"

"Taos. It's _far _from here. Far from Happy Harbor."

"Had enough winter?"

"And drama."

"No doubt." Dick took his beer from Kaldur with thanks.

Wally raised his beer, "To the birthday boy!"

"Roy's not here to toast." Conner pointed out.

"But I've got his beer." Wally raised Roy's beer. "He can toast _in absentia_."

"Good deal." Dick smiled, and they all clinked bottles.

"Oh, hey, there's a table. Want to get it?" Conner asked.

"Yeah, I'll get it." Wally was there one moment, and the next, at the table.

"That wasn't obvious at all." Conner murmured to Dick.

"No kidding."

They settled down at the table, and Mal called over the waitress. "Nachos, please. A couple orders."

"And chicken wings, please." Kaldur put in.

"Oh, yeah. Wings. Their wings are _great _here." Wally chimed in. "Get four dozen. At least."

"Some things never change." Conner smiled.

"Dude, I am going to eat like this until the day I die – again." Wally grinned.

'Let's hope that day is _very _far off." Kaldur smiled.

"Amen to that." Mal put his bottle up, and they drank to that, too.

"Mal, Kaldur, you guys missed seeing the _sweet _ride Dick got for his birthday." Wally enthused.

"New car?" Mal asked.

"Motorcycle."

Kaldur nodded approvingly. "Very nice. BMW?"

"Honda Blackbird."

"Appropriate." Kaldur noted.

"Very."

"I saw one on the road last week in New Mexico." Mal admitted. "It was _nice_."

"Oh, Dude! You're already checking out the neighborhood!" Dick was surprised.

Mal nodded. "Due diligence. If Karen's considering Taos, I'm going to make sure it happens."

"Your skin's going to dry out, you know that." Wally pointed out.

"Good thing Kaldur's not going there, then." Dick grinned.

Kaldur nodded in agreement. "No more than a half mile from the ocean. That is my rule."

"Good rule." Conner pointed out.

"So can we see this bike?"

"Roy took it out. You have a go when he comes back." Dick reached the bottom of his beer bottle. "Damn. I'm empty."

Conner stood. "My turn to buy the birthday boy a beer."

Just then, Roy walked in, his fingers trying to smooth down his hair. He threw the keys to Dick as he grabbed a chair. "It's a nice ride, Dickie."

"I know." Dick grinned. "Mal, you next?"

Conner returned with the beer, which Dick accepted with thanks.

"Better, before I get another beer in _me_." Taking the keys, he disappeared, and the bike's engine was soon heard over the bar music.

The nachos came out then, and Wally rubbed his hands together. "These look good."

"Make sure you leave some for Mal." Conner reminded him. "He ordered them, after all."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay." Wally waved a hand at Superboy and turned to Dick. "So, you get a birthday present from Devon?"

Dick gave a sly smile. "Kind of."

"Devon?" Conner asked. "Who's Devon?"

"The chick Dick's banging." Roy said before popping a nacho in his mouth.

"Whoa! I haven't heard about this!" Conner said.

"Nor have I." Kaldur said. "Although I have been out of the loop lately."

"Spending a lot of time in Barcelona will do that." Roy grinned.

Dick's jaw dropped. Their friend and former teammate, Donna Troy, had moved to Barcelona to finish up her studies in early European art. "Oh, my _God_! Kaldur! You and _Donna_?!" He was also glad to shift the focus from Devon.

A quiet smile came to Kaldur's face. "We have been – seeing each other, yes."

"Thank God there's a zeta there." Wally whispered to Dick.

Dick nodded and pointed both forefingers at Kaldur. "You guys will have the most _beautiful _children!"

Kaldur's face froze, and he held up both hands in protest. "We have only been dating a few months, Dick. _Please _do not rush us to the altar!"

"I'm already mentally picking out my tux." Dick and Wally touched beer bottles, and Dick looked at his. "My bottle's empty again."

"Got it, birthday boy." Wally was gone to the bar.

"So, it'll be a race to see which of the four of you get to the altar first." Dick ticked them off on his fingers. "You and Donna."

"Last – if ever." Kaldur stressed.

"Whatever." Dick waved his assertion away. "Mal and Karen."

"Me and Artemis." Wally was back in his seat, and Dick jumped.

"I seriously _hate _when you do that."

Wally grinned. "Sorry. Go on." He handed Dick a new beer bottle.

"Yeah, okay. Where was I? Wally and Artemis." He continued. "Or Conner and Megan."

"I'm calling last." Conner held up his hand.

"What? Why? You've been together longer than _all _of us. Longer than Roy's been married to Jade."

"But not longer than I've been _sleeping _with Jade." Roy pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah." Dick took a swig from his bottle. "You were first with everything. First to get laid. First to go solo."

Wally chimed in. "First to get married. _And _first to have kids."

"Well, what can I say?" Roy shrugged. "I'm a trail blazer."

"So why not you and Megan, Conner? I've _never _seen two people more compatible!"

Mal entered the bar, and Conner was glad to change the subject. "Hey, Mal! How's the bike?"

"A _seriously _sweet piece of machinery, Dick." He gave the birthday boy a fist bump.

"Thanks. Bruce never disappoints."

"That is _very _true."

"Ill take it next, Mal." Conner held his hand out for the keys, and Mal obliged. "I'll be back."

"Hurry!" Wally called after him. "The wings are here."

They cleared a spot on the table for a heaping platter of chicken wings, and they all dug in, with conversation turning to motorcycles, and the merits of different manufacturers, until Conner returned.

"That bike goes _fast_!" He gave the keys back to Dick. "Almost as fast as you, Wally."

"Not likely." Wally dismissed the claim.

Dick looked pointedly at Superboy. "So, about _you _and Megan, Con..."

"That's boring. Tell us about your _new _girlfriend." Conner grabbed a wing out of Dick's fingers.

Dick sighed, and wiped his hands on a napkin. "Not much to tell." He shrugged.

"Wait. Whoa. Did I _miss _something?" Mal asked. "You've got a woman, Dick?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" Dick sounded hurt.

"No, man, I was just kind of worried about you after Barbara. You took it _hard_."

Dick looked thoughtful. "Yeah. I know. I did." He agreed.

"But you're good now?"

"Yeah. Devon's – good for me."

"Devon? The _waitress_ at the diner?"

Shit! Dick had forgotten that he and Mal had gone to the diner together that first time.

"My God, you've _met_ her?" Roy was surprised, and turned to Dick. "You introduced Mal and Wally, but not _me_?"

"Uh, well..." He scratched his head.

"Or me!" Conner was outraged. "What the hell?"

"Dick was probably worried that, once she saw us, Con, she'd dump him like a hot potato." Roy teased, and another fist bump was had.

"Well, _thanks_, guys." Wally protested.

Mal waved his hand dismissively. "They're jealous, Wally, because _we've _seen her."

"Is she hot?" Roy asked.

"Well," Mal began, with consideration, "although I am _not _usually in the position to notice and comment on _other _women, I _can _say that she is _smoking_ hot." He grinned at Dick.

Roy reached over and gave Dick a punch on the upper arm. "Dog."

"So what did your _hot _girlfriend give you for your birthday, then?" Conner asked.

Dick blushed. "Ah, well, it's not _really _something that I can discuss."

A chorus of catcalls met that statement.

"Is it something that money can't buy?" Mal asked.

"I bet it can if you know where to go." Roy guessed.

"Oh, man, you guys are _horrible_! He says that he _doesn't _want to talk about it." Wally turned to him. "You can tell me later."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Very Early the Next Morning**

**December 2nd **

Devon was awakened from slumber by the ringing of her cell phone.

She opened her eyes in alarm. _Don't let it be Larry! _She pleaded as she reached for it and looked at the name on the screen.

Dick! She swiped the screen to answer the call. "Hello?" She said, hesitantly.

"Devon! Devon." His voice sounded odd, and she frowned.

"Dick? Is that you? Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah! I am _great_!" His voice slurred, and she realized that he was drunk. She considered hanging up, but decided against it. What if he was drunk somewhere and needed a ride and had reached out to her?

"Dick, are you _drunk_?" She remembered the time that he had asked her the same thing – when she had been reckless and had _practically _asked him for sex.

"Nooooooooooooo."

She could almost imagine him shaking his head emphatically, and she smiled and sat up. "Really, because I can almost smell the beer through the phone." Her voice was teasing.

"Damn! That is a _smart _phone!"

She laughed. He was apparently a _funny _drunk. "Not really." She turned somber. "Do you need a ride home, Dick? Is that why you called?"

"Why? Are you inviting me over?"

"Ah, no. Not quite."

"Too bad. I'd love to. Really. Crawl into your bed, and – _sleep_..." He trailed off, and she wondered if he had hung up, until he spoke again, suddenly. "We're good together, Devon, _aren't _we?"

Her brows drew down. He was _very _drunk. "Uh, yeah, Dick. We're – friends."

"No. I mean you and me –"

Just then, there was a fumbling of the phone, and another voice came on the line. "Uh, hi. Devon, right?" This voice sounded sober.

"Yeah. Who's this? Is Dick all right?" She was more concerned now.

"This is Roy. Dick's friend. Yeah, he's okay. Drunk as a sailor, but – okay."

"Does he need a ride home? I could – call a cab – or something."

"No. I've got it. I'm the designated driver."

"Oh, okay. Good. I'm – glad."

"Yeah. Not to worry. Sorry that he called you so late. I should have taken his phone. Drunken, midnight phone calls never lead to anything good."

"No. No. It's all right. Thanks for – explaining."

"No problem. Have a good – night."

"Thanks. You, too. And hey, um, tell him to call me when he's – feeling better." She didn't know why she told his friend that, but she _wanted _to talk to Dick again – when he was sober.

"Yeah. Sure thing. Bye."

"Bye." Devon ended the call and stared at the phone for a long while.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Very Early That Morning**

**December 2nd **

Roy drove up to the the gates of Wayne Manor, and the sensor inside Dick's motorcycle opened them automatically so that he could drive through.

He felt the hands around his waist start to slip, and he gripped them with one of his own. "Hang on, buddy. We're almost there."

"Right." A slurred voice came from behind him, and Roy gave a disgusted snort.

The door to the garage opened automatically, as well, and Roy envied the conveniences available to the residents of Wayne Manor as he rode his friend's bike inside.

He turned off the engine and let go of Dick's arm, and his passenger slid to the floor.

Roy sighed, climbed off the bike, and crouched down to sit Dick up. He pulled the helmet off him, and slapped his cheek none too gently. "You, my good friend, are drunker than I have ever seen you. And _that's _saying something." He stood, and, bending at the waist, picked Dick up and put him over his shoulder.

As he was walking with his burden to the door leading to the house, it opened, and Alfred stood there, clad in pajamas, a robe, and sensible slippers.

"Good evening, Master Roy. Or should I say, _good morning_."

Roy grinned. "Good morning, Alfred. Where should I put him?" He smacked his friend on the butt.

"Upstairs in his room, if it's not too much trouble, Sir."

Roy's smile got brighter. "My pleasure." He walked into the house and ran up the stairs, Dick's head bouncing on his back.

"Gonna _ralph_!" Dick gurgled.

"Not yet, Dickie." Remembering which room was Dick's, Roy carried him through the door and dropped him on the bed.

"Oof!" Dick collapsed on the duvet.

Alfred entered, and immediately halted. "My word. He is rather _aromatic_, isn't he?"

"Well, he graduated from _bottles _of beer to pitchers, and I think he ended up_ wearing _one."

"Hmm. That explains quite a bit." Alfred looked thoughtful. "Master Roy, could I trouble you to help me get Master Dick into the shower?"

Roy's grin was massive. "It would be my pleasure, Alfred."

Together, they stripped Dick, and Roy pulled him off the bed and walked him to the shower.

Dick staggered into the stall, and Roy turned on the cold water.

Dick howled when the frigid water hit him. "God! _Bastards_! What the hell are you doing?"

"Oh, look. It's Redneck Man." A cool voice came from behind Roy.

He turned to see Damian in the doorway, clad in pajamas and a robe, but without slippers.

"You're thinking of Arsenal, squirt."

"Tt." Damian came into the bathroom. "As if I can tell the difference, or as if I _care_. You're making enough noise to wake the dead, by the way."

"It's not me." Roy pointed over his shoulder at the shower, where Dick's silhouette through the frosted glass was gyrating and flailing. "It's Miller Time."

"He's drunk, I'm assuming."

"Indeed, Master Damian." Alfred came into the room, holding clean underwear for Dick. "And I hope that teaches you the evils of excessive drink."

"I don't need _Grayson_ to teach me that, Pennyworth."

"Quite happy to hear that, Sir." He turned to Roy. "Thank you so much for the assistance, Master Roy. May I be of any service in getting you home?"

Roy shook his head. "No, thanks, Alfred. Can I just borrow the use of Bruce's zeta tube?"

"I'm certain that he will not mind. Would you like to follow me, Master Roy?"

After Roy and Alfred left the room, Damian walked over to the shower stall to find Dick slumped against the wall, asleep. "Tt. _Lightweight. _You cannot hold your alcohol."

Turning off the water and stepping gingerly into the stall, he patted Dick on the cheek until the latter awoke.

"Wha?" Dick asked, his eyes bleary.

"Get up, Grayson, and go to bed."

Dick staggered to his feet, and Damian grabbed his arm so that he would not fall over.

"Here." He grabbed a towel and threw it at Dick. "If you think that I'm going to _dry _you, you've lost your mind."

Dick fumbled with the towel and dried himself, mostly, and Damian helped him step into underwear.

"I can't _believe _that I'm dressing you." The boy huffed, guiding his brother to bed.

Dick fell onto the bed face first, and, sighing, Damian arranged him so that his face was slightly turned over the side.

"Wouldn't want you to drown in your own vomit. _That _would be an ignominious end to Nightwing."

He pulled a blanket over his sleeping brother as Alfred, who had appeared in the doorway, stopped to watch.

Without a word, the manservant disappeared. Dick was in good hands.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Late That Morning**

**December 2nd **

The curtains were yanked back, and Dick groaned. "No! No! Close them!" He pulled the blankets over his head.

They were yanked from his grasp, even though he held on to them desperately.

"Get up, Dick." It was Roy's voice – _again_!

Dick put his pillow over his head. "Go away."

"No chance. Upsy-daisy." He took Dick's pillow.

"Why are you _torturing_ me?!" Dick groaned, keeping his eyes closed.

"Not trying to torture you, dude. But Artemis called _me _this morning and told me that, since _I_ got _Wally _drunk, I had to take him off her hands today because _he _was driving _her _crazy."

"But I'm not Wally." Dick whined, trying to pull the bottom sheet over his head.

"If I'm babysitting a hung-over Wally, so are _you_."

"I hate you."

"And I love you, bro. Now get your ass out of bed." He grabbed Dick's ankle and pulled on it until Dick slid onto the floor.

Dick finally opened his eyes and looked at his friend. "You're evil."

Roy laughed. "Get dressed. I'll be back."

Dick lay on the floor for ten minutes until Roy came back with a cup of coffee. "I thought I'd find you like this. Come on." He grabbed Dick's arm and helped him up. Once Dick was on his feet, Roy thrust the coffee cup in his hand.

Dick sipped from it reluctantly. "I don't know why I just didn't go see Devon last night."

Roy chuckled. "You tried to."

"Did I?" Dick looked at him in surprise.

"Well, you called her."

Dick's eyes widened. "Oh, shit! I didn't!"

Roy laughed again. "Yeah, you did."

"What did I say?"

"I guess you'd have to ask her."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh, damn. Please tell me you didn't hear me say something like 'I'm Nightwing,' or 'I love you.'"

"Nope. She sounds very nice, by the way."

"_You _talked to her?"

"Had to take the phone away from you before you made a fool of yourself."

Dick gave a relieved sigh. "You're a good friend."

"I thought you hated me."

"I changed my mind."

"Get dressed. Wally's downstairs. We're going out."

It took longer than usual for Dick to get dressed, but, when he finally dragged himself downstairs to the kitchen, he found Wally slumped over the counter, nursing a coffee cup, and Roy chatting amiably with Alfred.

"Ah, Master Dick, we may count you among the living. I'm _so _pleased."

"I'm not so sure about that, Alfred. Can I have some aspirin?" Dick pulled his sunglasses from his pocket and donned them against the unrelenting brightness of the sun streaming through the windows.

"Of course, Sir. Master Wally has already had two." He bustled to get the medicine, along with a glass of water, both of which Dick accepted with thanks.

"Wha?" Wally lifted his head from the counter and looked around blearily.

"Go back to sleep, Wally. We'll wake you when we're ready." Roy patted the speedster on the arm, and Wally complied.

"Breakfast, Master Dick?"

Dick waved his hand frantically, and clutched his stomach with the other. "No, Alfred. _No _food."

Alfred shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Dick sagged onto a stool, intending to emulate Wally, but Roy tapped his shoulder. "We're going out. It's sunny and we're not going to waste this beautiful day."

"Where's Bruce?" Dick ignored him and mumbled into his arm, which now supported his throbbing head.

"Master Bruce has gone into the city. He shall be gone most of the day, I believe."

"Uh." Dick grunted.

'Up you go, Dickie." Roy lifted him into a standing position, and did the same with Wally, although he was greeted with protests from both.

"I don't want to go anywhere."

"Well, tough crap. I was dragged away from _my _Sunday morning by _your _girlfriend, Wally, so _we _are going out."

"Where are we going?" Dick whined.

"Paintball."

"What? Paintball?" An adolescent voice came from the doorway. It was Damian. "I want to go." His voice sounded hopeful.

Roy looked him over, from the tip of his spiky hair to his feet clad in expensive, immaculately clean, black sneakers.

"You're on my team, kid."

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Good birthday for Dick! Bruce got him a new ride. I modified the stats on the Blackbird to make it a _little _faster, etc., since its production ended (or at least it stopped being sold in the US) in 2007. He also got a chance to spend some fluffy bro-mantic time with his boys. I gave Kaldur someone to love, since he has _never _been given any chance, other than poor, doomed Tula and a peck on the cheek from Raquel. I chose Donna Troy because she's a badass! I also moved her to Barcelona, because – why not? And also because I liked her accent in the "Super Best Friends Forever" shorts on DC Nation.

Also, Damian calls Roy "Redneck Man," which is a reference to Red Hood and the Outlaws #17, in which Roy (as Arsenal) is called that by Damian. So I decided that would be a cute thing for Damian to call him. Also, in the comics (pre New 52), Roy was a recovering addict, so I slipped that in.

PLEASE review!


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's Note: **Happy Mother's Day to everyone who celebrates! To everyone else, happy Sunday! : )

For those of you who frequent tumblr, you may have seen that SMGO has decided to go through with crowdfunding Young Justice despite the fact that Warner Brothers said no. Although many are leery of crowdfunding without the blessing of WB, SMGO has said that NO money will be touched unless they succeed in changing WB's mind. They have a PayPal account specifically for this, and, since, in my opinion, PayPal is about as safe as you can get on the internet, I have done my part and have pledged money to getting YJ back on the air! No money actually comes out of your account until the signed contract is in hand between SMGO & Warner Brothers. If you are at all interested, go to SMGO (.tv) and check it out.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Afternoon**

**December 2nd **

Roy put Dick's car into park in the lot of the paint ball park, and turned to his passengers, two of whom were slumped in their seats. "Here we are."

Wally, huddled in a hoodie in the back seat, looked blearily out the window. "Great."

Roy smacked Dick on the arm. "Let's go, birthday boy."

"It's not my birthday anymore." Dick pointed out from behind sunglasses and the rim of a baseball cap.

"Well, good. In that case, _you _can pay for paint ball."

Dick groaned.

"_I'll _pay if it will get you out of the car." Damian leaned forward between the two front seats.

"Oh, you're a rich kid, too. I forgot." Roy grinned at Damian. "I'm liking you more and more."

Roy and Damian climbed from the car and dragged their hungover companions along to the payment kiosk, where they were given masks and overalls and paint ball guns. They appeared to be the only patrons, which, on a cold day in late fall, was not surprising.

Roy grinned at Wally and Dick as they all suited up. "We're going to wipe the ground with you two. You know that, right?"

Wally and Dick looked at one another. "You seem to forget that I am the fastest human in the world." Wally boasted.

"Third fastest, unless you count Barry and Iris's kids – which would then make you the _fifth _fastest."

"Dude, they're not even out of diapers yet." Wally protested.

"So that should be _pretty _embarrassing for you, then, to get schooled by toddlers." Roy laughed.

Damian looked at Roy. "Is this an appropriate time for a _high five_, Harper?"

"Fist bump." Roy held out his fist, and Damian touched it with his own.

Dick look disgusted. "My own brother – _my own brother – _turned against me."

"Tt." Damian waved a derisive hand at him.

Dick pointed at him. "Doesn't matter. We are going to _school _you – and your ginger friend."

"Hey, whoa. Dude." Wally looked at Dick, and pointed to his own head of red hair. "Ginger standing next to you."

"Right. Yeah. I wasn't talking about you."

Wally nodded, and Roy rolled his eyes. "If you two little girls are done discussing hair color, I suggest we get started." He handed Dick and Wally a supply of green paint balls, and gave Damian a bag of blue. "Glad you like blue, Dickie, because you're going to be covered in it."

"Oh, yeah?" Dick retorted. "Well, I – I hope you like green, because you're going to look like – a Christmas tree."

The other three looked at him in confusion.

"You know," he explained, "because he's got red hair, and red – and green are, you know, Christmas colors..." He ended lamely.

"Oh, yeah." Wally said softly.

"Whatever." Roy rolled his eyes again.

"Tt." Damian dismissed his brother's feeble attempt at humor.

"Let's get started. How many rounds?" Dick began.

"Three." Roy held up that number of fingers.

"Fine. Number of hits or one hit and you're out?"

"I think we count the number of hits. Otherwise, this thing could be over in thirty seconds after we take them out, Dick." Wally grinned

"You know it." Dick said to him, and then it was their turn for a fist bump.

"You know, guys, I'm getting tired of rolling my eyes. Let's go." Roy snapped.

"Ooh. Getting a little _testy, _aren't you, Harper?" Dick enjoyed taunting the archer every so often – especially if it engaged that _famous _temper of his. Anger made Roy sloppy.

"Loser buys lunch."

"I should be able to eat by lunchtime." Wally nodded.

"Can we get on with it already?" Damian stamped his foot.

"Don't be so anxious to lose, baby bird."

Damian stepped up to Dick and pointed up at him. "Lose? This will enable me to _finally _prove that I am the superior Robin, Grayson." He whispered, his eyes narrowed.

"Bring it on." Dick grinned.

The two teams separated, with Damian and Roy going to the left, and Wally and Dick going to the right.

Dick and Wally huddled. "Okay," Dick began. "This is my strategy: don't get hit."

"Really? _That's _your strategy – that's what training with the _Bat _for over ten years has taught you?"

"Well, here's the thing. We are _totally _the underdogs here. Roy can pin a damn fly to a tree at a hundred feet, and Damian is a sneaky little bastard. And what are we? Two _hungover_ superheroes."

"Yeah, but you're forgetting the whole _super _speed."

"No, I'm not. _That _will keep you from getting hit. Admittedly, you won't be able to travel at your top speed – we don't want to give away to the paint ball attendant that you're flipping Kid Flash, but, damn! You're _flipping _Kid Flash! You should be able to avoid the pellets – and get off a few shots every now and then. Just don't _trip _over anything or _run _into anything. I don't want to end up at the emergency room with you because you broke your nose running into a wall."

"Dude!" He looked offended, but, on second thought, he sighed. "Yeah. Okay." He looked at his best friend darkly. "And what's the plan for you?"

"I'm an acrobat. I'm going to flip and somersault and tumble my way out of getting hit. And every so often, maybe I'll get the chance to hit one of them."

"So evasion and _luck _is our strategy."

"You got it."

Wally pointed at him. "When we lose, _you're _paying for lunch."

* * *

On the other end of the field, Roy and Damian calmly stood side by side, filling the hoppers on their guns with paint balls as they watched Dick and Wally converse far from them.

"You know what their strategy will be, right?" Roy asked.

"Evasion and infrequent attacks of convenience." Damian's eyes were serious.

"Exactly. Wally will run and Dick will flip around." Roy finished filling his hopper.

"Undoubtedly."

"And what should our strategy be?" He took an experimental aim with the gun.

"Obvious. We take an easily defensible position and pick them off repeatedly."

"Understood. I'll take Wally. My marksmanship is better than yours – no offense, stubbie –"

"None taken."

"– I'll be more likely to hit him when he's running around."

"Agreed."

"And you take Dick. My advice is –"

Damian raised a hand to silence him. "None needed. I've been planning the best way to take Grayson down since the day we met."

Roy looked at him in surprise. "You must be fun on holidays."

"You have no idea."

"Whatever. Look. I'm not buying lunch. Remember that."

"We won't."

"All right, then. Good luck."

"Same to you, but I don't need it."

With firm nods to each other, they waited for Dick and Wally to stand.

"Ready?" Roy called out.

"Whenever you are, Harper!" Wally responded.

"Then, may the best men win."

With four brains all thinking, "_we will_," they scattered.

Dick and Wally, after many years of working together on the same team, were very in sync as they made their first moves, around the perimeter of the park. Wally, keeping himself in check, moved just a _little _faster than a world-class sprinter, and zipped a jagged line around the park. Dick leapt and dove and dashed from barrier to barrier, his gun at the ready in case Roy or Damian came over onto their territory, and each remained unscathed – for the moment.

Roy and Damian, on the other hand, were, rather than evading, taking up position to snipe at their opponents. Roy had barricaded himself behind a large stack of hay bales, and Damian had scaled a blind, and was now crouched there, ready to hit either of his opponents if they happened into sight.

Roy got his first chance to take a shot at Wally as the speedster came around into their territory. Roy laid down a line of fire from a fixed point in front of Wally, and succeeded in landing three paint pellets on him before Wally changed course and eluded the rest of the shots.

Roy smiled. "Got ya." He murmured to himself.

"Oh, man." Wally exclaimed. "He got me." He headed for the wall behind which Dick was hiding, and skidded to a halt there. "Roy got me."

Dick looked at the line of shots across his friend's chest.

"Where is he?" He asked Wally, who pointed him out. Dick nodded. "Right. I'll sneak up and get him. But you've got to lay down fire against Damian, so he doesn't get me. This calls for drastic measures. Up your speed. And aim high." He pointed to Damian, whose head was visible on top of his perch.

Wally nodded and was gone in less than the blink of an eye.

He heard Damian's outcry when Wally's pellets came too close, and Dick took off at a low, crouching run towards Roy.

He was able to sneak around behind the archer, and, although Roy heard the popping of the paint balls as they shot from the barrel, Dick was still able to hit him twice.

Roy rolled and they were facing each other, each with a barrel pointed at the other.

"Stalemate, Dickie."

"Yeah." Dick's eyes behind his goggles were narrowed.

"You back off and we both walk away."

"Okay." He backed away from the archer, and Roy nodded.

Once he was clear, Dick took off and darted behind a leaning fence.

Wally found him easily. "Did you get him?"

"Twice."

"One less than he got me."

Dick counted the splatter marks. "Wally, you've been hit _five_ times."

"Damian got me twice."

Dick's jaw dropped. "That little _shit_! Damn! He's a good shot!"

Wally blushed. "Well, I _kind of _fell. But I got up really fast, so that's why he only hit me twice." He hastened to add.

Dick recalculated his strategy. "No problem. We're only down three."

"Which is what we were down before you went after Roy."

Dick held up a hand. "Details. We'll get them. You need to go faster."

"But, the paint ball attendant!" Wally protested.

"He won't even _see _you. Whip up a dust storm."

"I _love _dust storms. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get my little brother."

Wally looked concerned. "He's a sneaky little dude, Dick. Be careful."

"Oh, I'll be careful, all right. You forget that _I've _been at the superhero gig longer than he has."

Wally looked unconvinced. "If you say so."

"Don't doubt the Batman's first sidekick."

He sent Wally off to whip up a dust cloud, and as it grew thicker, he made his way across the field, using looming landmarks to find his way.

By the time he came upon Damian's perch, the dust was thick around them, and he slid the collar of his shirt up over his nose and pulled himself up onto the top of the blind.

A sharp series of thuds hit Dick's goggles as his head peeked over the edge, and his hands lost their grip. He fell the ten-odd feet to the ground and lay winded, staring up through a screen of blue. He felt more pellets hit his chest as he lay there, and reached up slowly to pull the goggles from his eyes.

The dust cloud was still thick around him, but he could see the silhouette of his brother standing on the blind above him, his gun on his shoulder and a finger pointing at him.

"Ha! I _knew _that I was the superior Robin!" He jumped down and stood over Dick, and Dick could see that Damian had his Robin mask on.

"You used your optics." Dick sat up and rubbed the paint off his goggles as best as he could..

"Of course I did."

"I would say that was cheating, but it was really just – smart." He jumped to his feet. "You'd better take them off, though, before Wally slows down and the attendant sees you."

Damian removed them, replaced his goggles, and Dick shook his head, grinning. "You got your utility belt, too?"

Damian unzipped his jacket to reveal exactly that. "I never leave the manor without it."

"Spoken like a true Robin."

"The _best _Robin."

Dick smiled. "You don't have anything to prove to me, baby bird. Or to Bruce. Or to anyone. I think I've told you that before." He put his hands on either side of Damian's face and ducked down to look in the boy's face. "You've made being Robin your _own_. No one will ever take that from you." He patted his brother's cheeks gently, and straightened. "Now, if we can only slow Wally down and find Roy."

"Wait." Damian protested. "Have you conceded defeat?"

"I've conceded _hunger_. And Wally's going to be as hungry as a bear if he ever slows down. Let's go get burgers."

"Wait. So that means that _I _won?"

"You and Roy." Dick held his hand up to shield his eyes

"Tt. The archer was less than useless."

"He got more shots on Wally than you did."

"But I got more on you." He began poking at them as he counted, but Dick waved him away.

"No need to count. You won."

Damian dropped his finger and smiled.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Late That Afternoon**

**December 2nd **

Dick and Damian entered the manor to find Alfred setting several pieces of luggage at the front door.

Dick's eyes widened. "Alfred? Moving out?"

A small smile passed the butler's lips. "Not at all, Master Dick. It would take more on your part than a hangover to prompt me to tender my resignation. No, masters Bruce and Damian are leaving for Belgium this evening, and I am accompanying them."

"What?" Now Damian's eyes widened. "_I'm _going to Brussels with Father?"

"Yes, indeed. Would you care to pack your personal items, Master Damian?"

"Yeah!" He raced up the stairs, Dick forgotten.

Dick shook his head sadly. He was still a distant second to Bruce in Damian's eyes. Oh, well. Bruce _was _his father, after all.

"Bruce around, Alfred?"

"Belowstairs, Sir."

"That's where I'm heading, then."

"Did you have a good time with '_the paintball,' _Master Dick?" He asked as Dick walked away.

"We lost. But, yeah. It was great." He turned and grinned at Alfred. "Damian and Roy were unbeatable."

"They were not suffering the ill effects of a night of debauchery."

"There is _that_, I suppose."

He ran lightly down into the BatCave and found Bruce testing out a spring mechanism for his taser. Dick leaned against the wall, watching him. "Are you going to Europe or into battle?"

Bruce slanted him a look. "Is there a difference?"

Dick pushed off the wall and came over to him. "In your world, no."

"It always pays to be ready."

"Yes, it does."

"Will you be staying here or in Blüdhaven while we're gone?"

Dick shrugged, a bit disappointed that his entire Gotham-based family was leaving without him. "I can stay here." He brightened as a thought came to him. "Can I do the whole _Risky Business _thing, and dance around the house in my underwear?"

Bruce looked at him wryly. "You do that anyway."

Dick deflated. "You're right."

"But no party."

"You didn't have to even say that, Pops. As if I would."

"And try not to get drunk while we're gone, either."

"I only do that once a year."

"Good. It sets a bad example for Damian."

"Uh-huh." Dick could think of a few bad habits that Bruce exposed Damian to, but did not want to argue.

"And don't forget to feed Titus and give him fresh water."

"I won't kill the dog, Bruce."

"Glad to hear. Damian would never forgive you."

"Don't I know it? So, why are you going to Brussels?"

"We're flying into Brussels. We're _going_ to Antwerp." He picked up a small screwdriver to tighten the spring.

"The diamond connection."

"Exactly." He tried the taser, but it deployed slowly, and he shook his head.

"But why now? You've had that lead for over a week."

"I was hoping to settle the situation with Jason before going, but it's apparent that that problem will not be solved anytime soon."

"No." Dick was somber. "Any leads?"

"Not really. Stirrings. A couple of possible sightings."

"Any of Red Hood?"

He shook his head. "Not so far."

Dick nodded. "So what is your junior crimefighter going to do while you're at the Diamond Centre? No children allowed, as I recall."

"I'm actually going to the _Beurs voor Diamanthandel_, but you're right. No children."

"So he'll just chill with Alfred?"

Bruce was long in answering, although he did not look at Dick as he spoke. "No. He's – going to be with his mother."

Dick blinked, sure that he had misheard. "He's going to be with his _mother_?" He repeated Bruce's words in disbelief.

His father nodded, but was silent.

"Bruce, is that a _good _idea?"

"She _is _his mother. And she wants to see him."

"She also wants to rule the world, and _that's _not a good idea, either!"

"Dick, I'm asking for neither your opinion nor your permission. I am simply _informing _you."

"He doesn't know." _He _was Damian.

"He'll be fine with it. He loves his mother."

Dick sighed. "I – I just don't trust her, Bruce. You _know _that she wants him back."

"I don't trust her either. But I don't want Damian _estranged _from his own mother."

"With a mother like Talia, you don't need enemies."

"She loves him, Dick. No harm will come to him."

"You _think _that. Bruce, she's not my mother or your mother. She's _psychotic_."

"Do _not _refer to her in that manner. Especially not in front of Damian."

Dick look chagrined. "I'm sorry. You're right. That was uncalled for. But why can't you have any _normal _women in your life?"

Bruce sent him a jaundiced look. "Like the _normal _woman in _your_ life?"

Dick colored. "At least she doesn't have any agenda. She loves _me_ for _me_."

Bruce's brows shot up. "There are many levels of irony in that statement, Dick."

Dick's face darkened. "What do you mean?"

"She _loves _you for you? And how exactly does she love _you _for _you_? She doesn't even know your name!"

Dick blushed and turned away, angry and embarrassed at the truth in his father's words

Bruce shook his head. "For the life of me, Dick, I don't know how you are going to extricate yourself from this mess you've gotten yourself into."

"It's not a mess."

Bruce held up his hands for peace. "I don't want to fight with you. I've told you time and again that I trust you, and I'll – trust you again – in this. I'm worried – for you, for her, for _all_ of us. I don't think it's safe. But, if this woman makes you happy, then, well, I hope that it all works out."

"But?" Dick was suspicious.

"No _but's_."

Dick gave a relieved half-smile. "Thanks, Bruce. That – really means a lot to me."

"Just – be careful. I don't want to see you hurt."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Night**

**December 2nd **

After waving Damian, Bruce, and Alfred goodbye, Dick turned to look up at the facade of Wayne Manor. He had the entire, _massive _house to himself. He wished that he could bring Devon. They could do – so many things here alone.

Well, there was nothing to be done. He couldn't bring her here. But he _could _visit her later – after some patrolling.

He decided to patrol in Gotham, so that he could be closer to the manor, and, of course, to Devon.

He went by Amusement Mile, derelict and boarded up. He usually tried to avoid the area – too many painful memories there – but he knew that it was among Bruce's regular routes, and he didn't want his father to think that he was neglecting his duties – again.

He shot a jumpline out to the top of the fun house, and swung up. The wood was rotted in places, now, and he wondered how long it would be before it collapsed into nothing.

He had had the ambition, not that long ago, to revitalize this area, but Bruce, although somewhat interested, had feared that the scheme might take Dick away from his education, and had advised him to table the idea for the present.

Until then, it was continuing to crumble. Maybe it would be easier to raze the whole area anyway and start over.

He raised his hand to shoot another line, and noticed, in the sky, the Bat signal.

He groaned and lowered his arm. Commissioner Gordon must need Batman.

Terrific. There was probably some crisis, and while Dick was _always _happy to help, he knew that a Bat Signal-worthy crisis was also likely to be time-consuming.

He sighed. Since when was he so _selfish_ with his time?

_Since I met Devon_, he told himself. She was making him very sensitive to how he spent his nights. Every crime that he investigated, every chase that he found himself involved in, every punch that he threw were all eating away at his time with her – time that he found himself guarding very carefully.

Was _this _what love did? He remembered being with Barbara, and he _surely _had loved her. Did he resent the hours away from her?

_Of course you did_, he reminded himself.

But he and Barbara had, for all practical purposes, been living together, and so fell asleep and woke with each other nearly every day. He did not have to crawl from her bed at some ungodly hour each morning, as he did with Devon.

He sighed. This no-strings-attached, anonymous relationship thing was not working the way that he had hoped.

He slid down an old pipe to the ground and took off at a run, launching the jumpline only when he got close to one of the buildings on the other side of the property's fence.

It took him only about ten minutes to get to police headquarters on his motorcycle, and, after leaving the bike several blocks away from the G.C.P.D. building, swung to the top of it and landed silently behind Commissioner Gordon, standing alone by the Bat Signal.

"How can I help you, Commissioner?" He remembered to drop his voice – the commissioner knew Dick Grayson as a former classmate and boyfriend of Barbara's, and it would not do to break out Dick Grayson's voice in Nightwing's body.

Gordon turned slowly and stiffly, and Dick got the feeling that he was disappointed.

"Oh. Nightwing. Where's your boss?"

_They always ask for Batman_. "Otherwise indisposed, I'm afraid. Can I be of assistance?"

He inclined his head. "We have a hostage situation in the Bowery."

"How many hostages?"

"Two. A woman and her four-year-old son. Gunman is her estranged husband."

"What kind of a gun?"

"Handgun, from what we can tell. And we think only one."

"What are his demands?"

"To not be taken alive."

"That's not good."

"No. It's in one of the tenements there. Fourteen floors."

"Are they on the fourteenth, by any chance?"

"Yes. We evacuated the building of everyone else."

"Lucky break. I could, _theoretically, _go in from the roof."

"Theoretically."

Dick gave a grim smile. "Then I'm your man, Commissioner."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

**December 3rd **

Dick crawled into bed at Wayne Manor after taking a quick shower. The hostage situation had taken _much _longer than he had anticipated, and he had not gotten finished until almost three A.M., and did not get home until nearly four. It was far too late, and he was far too tired, to visit Devon.

Still, his rescue of the hostages had been successful, and he only had to break the man's arms.

All in all, a good night. Well, for everyone except the hostage taker.

As his eyes closed in sleep, his last thoughts were of the woman he had rescued, who was relieved and grateful and resentful at the same time.

People were odd.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hope that you liked the boys' day of paint ball. I hope that you were not disappointed by the outcome. I wanted Dick to be able to congratulate his little brother on a job well done. I really enjoyed writing it – especially the camaraderie amongst all the friends.

Well, Bruce & Dami (with Alfred in tow) are headed to Belgium, so that means Talia will soon be entering the picture. This, by the way, is Talia from outside the _Batman, Inc._, title – a woman who loves her son above all else, which **I **believe is more true to her years of characterization than the one who appears currently in Morrison's title.

A note on the Antwerp diamond district – the _Beurs voor Diamanthandel _is a diamond exchange that still exists today, and is a place where rough and polished diamonds are bought and sold.

Review, please!


	41. Chapter 41

**Brussels, Belgium**

**That Morning**

**December 3rd **

Damian stopped as his foot touched the tarmac at the Brussels airport, and turned to his father, behind him on the stairs, his eyes narrowed.

"Father, is that – _Ubu_?" There was a note of panic in his voice, and he started to back up towards the plane. "I think we're being ambushed!"

Ubu was one of Ra's Al Ghul's most trusted servants, although he had, in recent months, been exclusively attached to Talia. The muscled, bald man stood next to a limousine, his hands folded in front of him.

Bruce stiffened. He had not thought that Talia would come here, to the airport, to greet them. He had hoped that he would have time to speak Damian first.

_Maybe you should have done that on the transatlantic airplane flight_, Dick's chiding voice was in Bruce's mind.

"No. We're not being ambushed." Bruce said shortly, although he put a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder.

"Are you certain?" Damian was unzipping his jacket to expose his utility belt.

"Yes."

Damian turned to his father, confusion in his large eyes. "Father, tell me _what _Ubu is doing here."

As Damian said that, Ubu opened the door of the car, and Talia emerged, resplendent in an expensive fur.

Bruce sighed.

"Father, what is my _mother _doing here?" Panic was back in Damian's voice.

"She's here for you." He watched as Talia strode towards them, confident and beautiful, a smile on her face.

"What do you mean?" Damian's face was suffused with red.

"Darling." Talia extended her arms towards Damian, who folded his own on his chest, and glared at her.

Talia came to an uncertain stop, and dropped her arms, bewildered.

Bruce had never seen her look so self-conscious.

"_Why _are you here, Mother?" Damian demanded.

Talia cast Bruce a dark look. "Have you _not_ told him?"

"Told me _what_?" Damian's hand were now fisted at his sides.

"While we're here in Brussels, I thought that you and your – mother might spend some time together." Bruce said, a note of guilt in his tone.

"_What_?!" Damian's voice raised. "B – but I thought that _we _were going to work together, Father, on this diamond case!"

Talia looked between the two of them, her brows drawn down. "What diamond case?"

"Nothing that concerns you, Talia."

"But, _Beloved_," she emphasized her endearment of Bruce, "whatever it is, I am _certain _that I can be of assistance."

"No." Bruce looked at her sharply. "I don't need your help. I'll find out what I need to know."

"But..."

He held up a hand. "I don't need your kind of _assistance_, Talia."

"_My _kind of assistance?"

"The kind that includes torture and murder."

She frowned at him. "You may not agree with my methods, but you must admit that they get results."

Damian, who was watching the volley between his parents with increased impatience, broke in. "Could we _please _focus on _me _right now?"

Talia's face cleared, and she turned to her son. "Of course, Darling. I apologize." She looked at Bruce. "Could you have your _man _bring Damian's things to the car?"

"Right here, Sir." Alfred had descended behind Bruce, carrying Damian's bags.

"But, Father," Damian stamped his foot. "I don't _want _to go."

Talia frowned. "Of course you do, Darling. We'll have a splendid time."

Damian's face was thunderous. "I – want – to – stay – with – my – father." He said slowly, accentuating each word.

"But, _Dearest_ –" Talia began.

"Damian, I can't take you into the diamond exchanges anyway. Go with your mother."

Talia flushed red. "You do not have to _order _my son to go with me. He will come of his own accord. Won't you, Darling?" She smiled at him again, although he looked displeased.

Her smile faltered, but, when she recovered, the smile was brighter. "I have a villa just outside Alicante. It's warmer there. You'll be able to go in the ocean, and we shall take one of the yachts out. We'll have a marvelous time."

Bruce looked at her sharply. "Alicante? We _never _discussed you taking him out of Belgium."

One of her brows arched imperiously. "Why should we stay? The weather is hideous. He'll have a _much _better time in Spain."

"You should stay because _I _didn't agree to allow you to take him out of the country."

"Father..." Damian began, but Bruce held up a hand.

"_I _am his mother. I will take him where _I _wish."

Bruce's face hardened. "You gave up the right to decide where he goes when you sent him to live with me in Gotham."

"I sent him to Gotham for his own _good_."

"Finally, we agree on something."

"He is my son, and we spend precious little time together –"

"Which was your decision." Bruce interrupted her.

"Are we going to have this argument, Bruce, in front of Damian?" Her tone was accusing.

"No, but we will decide this _before _you take my son from my sight."

"He is my son, too."

"I am well aware of that. I am also _quite _aware of the fact that you could very well take him to Morocco from Spain."

"Are you accusing me of conspiring to kidnap my own child?"

"No, Mother. Father. _Please_." Damian tugged at Bruce's sleeve.

Bruce stayed his son's hand. "We're talking right now, Damian."

"No!" Damian shouted, causing his parents to look at him, startled. "You are _not _talking. You're _arguing_. Mother." He turned to Talia. "I will go with you, but you must promise me that you'll allow me to return to my father when he has completed his business. If you do not, and attempt to keep me from him, I shall _never_ forgive you. And, as an Al Ghul, you know that I am resolute. I repeat: I shall _never _forgive you. Are you amenable to those terms?"

"Have I a choice?"

"No."

She gave a reluctant nod, then, and shot a murderous look at Bruce.

"And Father." Damian turned to him. "You shall allow my mother to take me to Spain, if that is her will."

Bruce set his jaw. It was against _every _instinct to let Talia go with Damian somewhere so close to her home base of Morocco, but he did not want to Damian to resent him for not compromising with Talia, and he did not want to drive a larger wedge between Talia and her son.

He, too, nodded, and Damian did the same.

"Pennyworth, please take my luggage to my mother's car."

"Yes, Master Damian." Alfred had to suppress a smile at the boy's imperious manner.

"Mother, please wait for me in the car."

Although taken aback at being ordered about by her son, she nodded, and returned, with Ubu, to the limousine.

Damian looked up into his father's face. "I'll miss you, Father."

Bruce dropped down on his knees. "I'll miss you, too."

Damian gave him a hug, and Bruce held on to him for an overly long moment. "Be good." He said softly.

Damian pulled away and rolled his eyes. "Do you think I intend to use peasants as target practice?"

"Does your mother have access to many peasants nowadays?" Bruce tried levity.

"I don't believe so." Damian zipped up his jacket, hiding his utility belt from view. "Do not think that I will forget that you made arrangements with my mother _behind _my back."

Bruce nodded. "I know. Be careful."

"Do not worry about me. I am a Wayne _and _an Al Ghul. No one can hope to best me. I shall be fine."

A ghost of a smile crossed Bruce's face. "I know. I'll see you in a week."

Damian nodded.

"Do you have your phone?" Bruce asked with concern.

"Yes, of course."

"Call me every night."

"I shall."

"Have fun with your mother."

"I will try to do so." He nodded again. "I enjoy swimming. And boating."

Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets and watched as his youngest son walked away from him with a wave.

Bruce, although a man uncertain about the existence of a higher being, felt that it could do no harm to call on that power. God was a father, too, after all. _God, please protect him, _Bruce prayed as Damian climbed into the car.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Afternoon**

**December 3rd **

The phone rang as Dick was buying a diet soda from a vending machine, and he juggled the can as he pulled the phone from his pocket.

It was Bruce.

"Hey, Pops." Dick grinned. "Bored already?"

"Hardly. I just got off the phone with Lucius."

"Oh, yeah?" Dick popped the can open. "Is he telling tales? Because I was in the office today. Scout's honor."

"No. There's been a problem, though, with one of our investments. The Gotham Blades."

"The hockey team? What's the problem?" He took a swig from the can and exited the vending area.

"We've had an offer from a group of investors."

"We're not selling, are we? I _love _owning the Blades." He blushed in embarrassment. "I mean, I _love _that Wayne Enterprises owns them."

"_We_ own a controlling interest. We don't own them outright."

"Are you entertaining this offer?"

"No. The investors' group is headed by Luthor."

"_Luthor_?"

"My sentiments exactly."

"What does he want them for?"

"Money laundering, most probably."

"But we're not selling, right?"

"There is a Board of Directors' meeting tomorrow morning to discuss it."

"This merits a Board meeting?"

"The Board does not usually get involved on this scale, but it's quite an offer."

"Are you coming back for it?"

"I'm not prepared to leave Europe without Damian, and he's with Talia until next Sunday."

"Wow. Okay. What can I do?"

"Go to the meeting for me. As my proxy."

"And make sure the Blades don't skate away from Wayne Enterprises?"

"Precisely."

"I'm your man." He was saying that a lot recently.

"Thank you, Dick. I'll have the files sent to the house tonight by courier, and follow that up with the proposal via e-mail."

"Should I let Lucius know I'll be there for you?"

"No need. I already told him."

Dick stopped and, grinning, shook his head. "That sure of me, huh?"

"Dick, if there is _one _thing in this world that I am sure of, it's you."

Dick felt a prickling at the corners of his eyes. That was possibly the _best _thing that Bruce had ever said to him.

"Thanks, Bruce."

"Don't mention it."

"Don't worry. I won't."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Evening**

**December 3rd **

Devon was sitting at the dining room table when the text alert on her phone sounded, and she pulled it to herself.

It was Larry, and she groaned.

_**Got a little job for you tomorrow.**_

"Why doesn't he leave me alone?" She grumbled.

_What is it?_

_**We need you to deliver something for us.**_

She was instantly suspicious.

_Is it anything that blows up?_

_**No. Don't worry. Nothing that will hurt anybody. Except you, if you don't pull it off.**_

Devon's heart jumped. Larry's threats were becoming more frequent.

_What are the details?_

_**It's on a need-to-know basis and right now, you don't need to know.**_

_I really don't want the details sprung on me at the last minute._

_**Don't really care what you want, girlie. **_

She sighed, and put her head in her hands. This was bad. He was sending her into something that may or may not get her killed.

_**You're probably sulking right now. Look outside your door.**_

She did as he instructed, and found a flowered duffel bag on the stairs that led down to the diner. She carried it back into the kitchen.

"Devon, did you just open the door?" Her grandmother called from the living room.

"Uh," she put the duffel bag on the table, "Yeah. Larry left – something."

"Oh, yes?" Devon could hear her grandmother rising from her chair.

A text came through from Larry.

_**Your little alarm didn't stop me.**_

_Too bad. _She texted back.

_**Ha ha. Open the bag yet?**_

Her grandmother came to stand beside her, and Devon unzipped the bag. She removed two long-haired wigs, one straight black and the other curly blond, as well as two pairs of sunglasses, something that resembled some sort of collapsible water bag, a credit card with a magnetic strip but no other writing, and a small black plastic box that resembled a stud finder – the kind used in construction and home improvement.

"What is all this? Is that a garage door opener?" Marie frowned.

Devon shook her head and texted that question to Larry.

_**Supplies. You'll need them for your mission tomorrow morning.**_

"Tomorrow _morning_?" Devon whined aloud.

"What's tomorrow morning?" Marie laid a hand on her sleeve.

"Larry says that he has a job for me for tomorrow morning. I can't do it. I have to work." She texted that to Larry, as well.

_**I think that you can take some time off for this.**_

Devon repeated Larry's statement to her grandmother. The older woman shrugged. "I suppose I could sub for you."

Devon sighed. "Thanks, Grandma." She was hoping that her grandmother would object. Of course she wouldn't. Larry could do no wrong.

_What is all this? _She texted.

_**You'll find out tomorrow. Be ready to go by 8 AM**_

_What do you mean? What are the wigs for? And the credit card? And that big garage door opener?_

_**That is NOT a garage door opener, and DO NOT push any of the buttons on it unless you want to be sitting in the dark for the rest of the night.**_

Devon looked at the black box and blinked. What the hell was it?

_What's it for?_

_**Tomorrow. 8 AM.**_

_What are the wigs for?_

_**You have wigs, two sets of clothes and an air bladder. You wear one set of clothes and one wig and carry the other in the duffel bag. You might need to change clothes to blend in as you make your escape. **_

Wow. Larry was being more forthcoming than usual. _Escape? _She texted.

_**Tomorrow. Be ready to go with everything in the bag. AND the new communicator. Got it?**_

Devon sighed. _Got it._

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Late That Night**

**December 3rd **

Nightwing drew himself up the tree outside Devon's window slowly, his knee aching terribly. He had broken up a gang fight earlier, and, although he had ultimately been successful, he had taken several blows to the torso, arms, and legs, with the most severe being to his knee.

A couple of taps on her window brought Devon to open it, and he climbed in.

"Hey, love." He grinned, and pulled her to him for a kiss.

"Hmm." She kissed him, running her hands up his arms, and linked her arms behind his neck.

He moved to carry her to the bed, but, as he bent to pick her up, he winced.

"Oh, do _not _say that you're too weak to carry me." She said, caution in her voice.

He chuckled. "No. I had kind of – a rough night."

"Oh, I'm sorry." She touched his face with tenderness. "I can help you relax, if it would help." She gripped the bottom of his shirt, and started to ease it up his torso. He groaned in pain, and flinched.

"Oh. Are you that sore?" She asked.

He nodded as he took off his gloves and wrist computer.

"Do you want to just – rest, or something?" She asked, concerned.

He grinned. "'_Or something_' sounds good. If I can get my clothes off. Ow." He responded as he raised his arms over her head.

She gingerly helped him to remove his top, and looked at him. Bruises had started to form on his chest and arms, and she frowned. "You get beaten up too much."

"Agreed."

"If I take off your bottom, am I going to see more bruises there?"

"You're going to see _something_." He said cheekily.

"Don't kid. You need to be careful, you know."

"You sound like Batman."

"Well, he sounds a little more _sensible _than you."

"_Sensible_ would be one word to use for him." At her skeptical look, he touched her cheek. "Don't worry about me. I've been doing this most of my life. I'll be okay."

"I have to worry. It's my job."

"Is it?" He raised a brow, wondering exactly what she was hinting.

She gave him a quick kiss. "You're not going to get me into a deep conversation about our relationship. All you'll get from me is –"

He interrupted her with a wide grin. "Do you take requests?"

* * *

Despite his soreness, they made love vigorously, and, afterwards, they lay together.

Devon's mind wandered to her worry over Larry's mission, and she was rather distracted and non-responsive to Dick's attempts at conversation..

He finally remarked on her demeanor. "At the risk of you kicking me out of this oh-so-small bed, you seem kind of – far away." To take the sting out of his words, he kissed her gently on the forehead.

Worried that he would see the disquiet on her face, she turned in his arms until her back was settled against his chest. Time for some subterfuge. "Ah, it's – nothing. Just one of my classes. I'm not doing as well as I should."

He kissed her shoulder. "Mm. No? Are you staying up too late?" It was a valid question. He rarely left her room before one or two A.M.

She smiled gently. "It's not that. I'm just – having trouble. I'm not as much of a science whiz as I'd like."

"Hard deal if that's your major."

Her brows drew down. "How did you know that's my major?"

She thought she felt him stiffen in alarm, but, the next moment, she felt his body relax as the kisses turned to soft nips. "I think you mentioned it before." He said between nibbles.

"Oh. Okay." She accepted his explanation – she did not remember telling him, but she may have. After all, who could remember all that they had said to each other? "Did you go to college?" She wasn't trying to pry – she was just interested.

"Ah. Well. You know – _secret identity_, and all."

"Sorry. Wasn't trying to be nosy." She turned to face him again. "It's just hard to remember what we _can _and _can't _talk about."

"I know. And I _want _to tell you. Really. But –"

"We're going to talk about this again, aren't we?"

"Apparently. It seems to be a part of who we are."

"It doesn't have to be."

"I want to tell you _everything;_ I just –"

"I know. It's not just your life you're endangering."

"No. It's not."

"Hmm." She touched her lips softly to his, and felt the familiar thumping of her heart whenever they kissed. "Maybe we should just stop talking."

"We can do that." He murmured, sliding his hands beneath her heavy hair to cup her skull and bring her face to his again. "In fact, there are _a lot _of things that we can do."

"I know." She said as he pressed kisses along her jaw line. "We've done most of them."

He pulled back to grin at her. "_Most _of them? Love, we haven't even _scratched _the surface."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Early The Next Morning**

**December 4th **

Dick was awakened by the sound of the phone ringing, and he fumbled for it next to his bed. He peered blearily at the contact information.

It was Damian.

"Hey, Baby Bird." He tried to sound awake as he answered it.

"You were asleep." His brother's familiar, imperious voice came through the line.

"No, I wasn't."

"You're a bad liar, Grayson."

Dick rolled over and lay on his back. 'Not usually, but this time, you're right."

"Out late patrolling or having sexual relations with the waitress?"

"Both." Dick admitted, sighing. "More of the second than the first, though."

"Please do not allow crime to get a _stronger _foothold in Gotham while we're gone."

"Wouldn't dream of it, little D." Dick laid his arm over his eyes. "So what's new with you?"

"I'm at my mother's villa in Alicante right now."

Dick frowned, completely awake now. "You're in _Spain_?"

"Do you know of another Alicante?"

"No. Did Bruce give Talia permission to take you out of Belgium?"

"Yes. Did you know about this, Grayson?"

"Know about what?"

"About the agreement between my father and mother?"

Dick was silent. He _really _didn't want to lie to Damian – chances were that the younger man would figure out the truth anyway.

"Yeah. I did."

There was a long silence, and, when Damian spoke again, he sounded hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It – it wasn't my place to tell you, D."

"_Not your place_? Since when do you know _your place_? You stick your nose into _everything_!"

"Would you have gone – if you had known?"

"No." Damian grumbled.

Dick sighed. "Look, I know that you don't appreciate this now, but, she's your _mother_."

"I am aware of that."

"You didn't let me finish. She's your mother, and you only get one in this life. And you won't always have her. Trust me, I know. And I would give _anything _to spend even an hour more with my mom."

There was silence on the end of the line for a long moment. "I suppose that it _is _only a week."

"Yeah. It is."

"And I _suppose_ that I can regale her with the tale of how I bested you at paint ball."

Dick grinned. "Yeah. You can."

"I _suppose_ then, if I am staying with her, that I will see you in a week."

"I can't wait."

"Grayson?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime." Dick smiled at the phone as his brother clicked off.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **As a mother, I think that Talia is misrepresented in the recent "Batman, Inc." run, and this is my attempt to rectify that. Yes, Talia is power-mad and vindictive and possessive, but I truly believe that she loves Damian, and I feel that she would not not have been so cavalier with his life – and death.

Anyway, that's my feeling on Talia. I hope that you feel that this characterization is true.

I also decided to make Talia's base of operations in Morocco, because, if I was the head of a multi-national criminal empire, that's where I'd live!

Stay tuned for Devon's big assignment - it probably WON'T go well!

Please review! : )


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's Note: **Thanks to sunflower13 for betareading!

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

**December 4th **

Devon adjusted the wig on her head and looked at herself critically in the bathroom mirror. The wig, blunt cut below the chin, with bangs, and black, was not flattering to her skin tone. In fact, it looked – jarring.

"Hmm. You weren't born to be black-haired."

She gave her grandmother a withering look. "Thanks, Grandma."

The older woman shrugged. "Should I lie?"

Devon smiled. "No, but maybe you _should _get back to the diner. There are probably two or three people who need coffee refills."

Her grandmother sighed. "Tyrant." She said it fondly, though, and gave her granddaughter a kiss. "Be careful."

"You, too, Grandma. Don't try to carry too many plates at once."

"I won't." She left the room, and, just then, Devon's text alert sounded, so she swiped at the screen.

_**Ready?**_

_Just now. What do I do with the other stuff?_

_**I told you to put them in the duffel. Wear one of the pairs of sunglasses, though. Don't need anyone IDing you.**_

_Aw, I didn't think you cared._

_**I don't, but we still need you.**_

_Gee, thanks. That makes me feel ALL warm and fuzzy._

_**If you want warm and fuzzy, wear flannel. We have work to do.**_

_Oh, will I see you?_

_**Not on your life. I'll be directing you.**_

_Big surprise._

_**Enough of the small talk. You have the in-ear communicator?**_

_Yeah._

_**Put it in and turn it on.**_

She did as she was ordered, and Larry's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Can you hear me?" He asked.

"Yeah. Can you hear me?" She spoke in a normal tone, not expecting him to respond.

"Loud and clear."

She raised her brows in surprise. "It's sensitive."

"Yeah, well, it's expensive. Don't break it."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"You got the nasal inserts and the cheek pads?"

"The what?"

"A zip bag with little pieces of tan plastic – shaped like the letter 'S,' and some gauze."

She searched through the things he had sent until she indeed found a small, clear plastic bag with two 'S' shaped pieces of plastic, and some small, flat gauze pads. "I found them. What are they for?"

"They'll change the shape of your nose and cheeks so you won't be recognized."

"Wow. Plastic nose inserts and _gauze _pads. You really are sparing _no _expense to keep me anonymous." She said sarcastically.

"Go put them in. I'll call you back."

"Wait. What's this big plastic bladder-thing for?"

"You blow it up and put it under your skirt and you look pregnant."

"Yay?"

"It'll help you change your appearance."

"Yeah, I'll say. Why this obsession with keeping me incognito?"

'You get caught, you lead them to me. Not too hard to figure out. Now go put the inserts in your damn nose. Ten minutes and you better be ready to go."

It took her a few minutes to figure out how to use the inserts, even with the instruction sheet included, but, although she found it vaguely uncomfortable, she put them in and looked at herself in the mirror.

"Huh. What do you know?" The inserts elongated and thinned her nose, and the gauze changed the shape of her jaw, and she looked – different. Not so different that her grandmother wouldn't recognize her, but different enough that surveillance photos and face-recognition software might be fooled.

As promised, Larry called back ten minutes later, when she was just zipping shut the duffel, which looked enough like a large purse that it would not cause comment.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Yeah. Where am I going? I don't need a gun, do I?"

"No. Make sure you have that black _garage door opener. _But don't turn it on until I tell you."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Something bad will happen. No one's going to get hurt, right? Because, despite what you think, I am _not _an assassin."

"Don't worry. You'll keep your hands clean."

"Good. So where am I going?"

"I'll let you know when you get there."

"And am I walking? Getting a cab?"

"Number 42 bus. It comes to your bus stop in – oh, look at that – seven minutes. Better hurry."

Devon shook her head. "Ass." She murmured.

"What was that?"

She forgot that the comm device was very sensitive.

"Nothing."

"I'll be texting you while you're on the bus, so maintain radio silence."

"So no talking to myself on the bus?"

"Right."

"And where am I getting off?"

"I'll let you know."

"All right, then." She reached up and pressed the button on the comm, ending the call.

She slipped the sunglasses on, looked at herself in the mirror one last time, and saw a stranger staring back at her.

She got to the bus stop just as the number 42 bus was coming down the street, and, after depositing the right amount of change in the farebox, she took a seat.

As the bus bumped away from the diner and farther into the downtown area, Devon stared out the window, her mind very much on the mission that she had been set. What would she have to do? Obviously, the thing she called the garage door opener had something to do with it, as did the credit cards with no face, but she could not imagine what.

A text came in to her phone, and she swiped at the screen.

_**Get off at Ninth and Gardner**_

Ninth and Gardner? What was at Ninth and Gardner?

She didn't have to wait long to find out.

She alighted at the bus stop at Ninth and Gardner, and looked around her. The Wayne Enterprises Building loomed above her, rising into the sky in gleaming metal and glass.

"Wayne Enterprises. Great. Nice, big, important target. I'm dead." She mumbled, looking up at the building.

Her in-ear communicator beeped, and, under the wig, she touched it.

"Go into the Wayne Enterprises Building."

She looked around, to see if she could find Larry amongst the crowd.

"You won't see me. Don't bother looking. Now go into the building with all the other office drones, and let me know, with an 'okay,' when you are inside by the main elevators."

"I don't like this."

"Don't care. Let me know when you're there."

She did as he bade her, falling into step with the other office workers, both men and women, dressed in suits or skirts and blouses, with sensible shoes and briefcases. She clutched the duffel close to her as she followed the crowd into the building and to the main bank of elevators, past uniformed security guards milling about the bottom lobby.

"Okay." She muttered.

"Good." Larry's voice sounded in her ear. "Now walk on, past the elevators and make your first right. Tell me when you've done that."

She did, and found herself in a deserted hallway lined with doors. "Okay."

"Keep walking, and make your _second _left."

She followed his directions, and found herself in a dead end hallway, in front of a door marked 'No Unauthorized Access.'

"Okay."

"You got a white pass card and a black pass card with the supplies last night. Get them out."

Oh. Duh. They were pass cards, not credit cards. She fumbled in the duffel and extracted them.

"Okay."

"Now listen carefully. Once you get inside, you'll have less than three minutes before security comes, so you have to work quickly. Have the detonator ready."

"The _what_?" She asked, alarmed.

"Calm down. It's the garage door opener. It gives out an electrical impulse. _No one _will be injured. Trust me."

"I don't."

"Well, you're going to have to. Now listen to me. Open the door with the _white _card, go inside, and get the detonator out."

"I don't want – " she began, but he interrupted her.

"Just do it. And use your sleeve to open the door."

Drawing in a deep breath, she swiped the white pass card in the reader on the door, and a green light shone. Grasping the handle with her long sleeve, she opened the door and entered the room, which turned out to be an electrical room. Banks of what appeared to be servers or computers or _something_ stood against three walls.

"Now find the panel closest to the door on the right."

She located that. "Okay."

"Take the garage door opener out and attach it to the side of the panel. It's magnetic, so it will stick."

"What about fingerprints?"

"It'll self-destruct, so no worries."

Taking in a deep breath, she did as she was ordered.

"Now listen very carefully. Once you press the _green _button on the detonator, you will have _exactly _two minutes to get the hell out of there before it shuts off _all _the lights and electricity in the building, including back-up generators. Get out of that room, and use the _black _pass card to lock the door. Once you're out of there, you're going to go straight across the hall where you'll open another door with the white pass card. That will take you back to a hallway off the main lobby. Once you're there, let me know."

"Okay."

"All right, are you set?"

"Yes."

"Then push the damn green button and get the hell out of there."

She pushed the button, and a quiet beeping, accompanied by pulsing lights on the detonator, began.

She gripped the door handle again with the sleeve of her blouse, and, once she was outside the door, she swiped the black pass card in the lock, which turned all the lights on the pad red.

With a small smile, she crossed the hall, and, using the white pass card, opened that door, again using her sleeve to prevent fingerprints. She found herself in a long hallway, with a door at the end. She walked towards it quickly and opened it.

She found herself, as Larry had predicted, in the main lobby. "Okay." She said.

"Good girl. Are there a bunch of security guards around?"

She looked at her surroundings. As Larry had said, there was an inordinate number of security guards who all seemed to be on high alert. Three of them were actually checking identification at the exit doors.

Devon began to panic. "Yes. They're blocking the exits."

"Don't worry. The silent alarm on the electrical room went off, but it'll be okay. You'll get out. Right past the elevators is a women's restroom. Go in there and into a stall and change your clothes."

"But I don't have I.D. To get out of this place." She tried to keep her voice calm.

"Don't worry. In a couple of minutes, you won't need it."

The bathroom was, luckily, deserted, and she chose the handicapped stall. _Since I'm probably going to prison anyway, I might as well use the handicapped stall_.

Once inside, she began stripping off the clothes she was wearing, and the lights went off at that moment, leaving her in the dark.

"Oh. It worked." Devon said quietly.

"Of course it did. Get your phone out and use the flashlight if you need it."

She did and, after turning on the app, laid the phone on the toilet tank so that she could dress in the other clothes, which consisted of a long, flowing peasant skirt, a voluminous blouse, a curly, long, blonde wig, and an oversized pair of sunglasses.

"Don't forget your belly."

"My what?"

"Your pregnancy belly. You want to look different, don't you?"

She searched for the air sac in the duffel bag, and, once she got it out, was able to blow it up and strap it around her waist. "Okay."

"Are you ready to get out of there now?"

"Yeah."

"Make sure you've got your sunglasses on and your wig straight, and walk out with the throngs of panicked employees. Can you do that?"

"Yeah. Simulating panic won't be too hard."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Morning**

**December 4th **

Dick made a face as he inserted a finger inside his collar, in an attempt to loosen his necktie. He had dressed in a suit, an Oxford shirt, and a conservative blue tie for the Board of Directors meeting, and was bored sitting in the Board room, trying to concentrate on the thread of the conversation. It wasn't that Wayne Enterprises business _bored _him – it was just that he _knew _what he was going to vote – against the sale of the Blades – and so it didn't really matter what anyone else on the board voted. Bruce had more shares than anyone else, and the only other chunk large enough to make a difference was controlled by Lucius, and Lucius had agreed that selling the Blades to _anyone_, least of all Luthor, was unthinkable.

So Dick was stuck, listening to a bunch of windbags yammering about why the deal was a _good _idea or why the deal was a _bad _idea, when, in the end, it did not matter what they said – all that mattered was what Bruce and Lucius wanted.

Although he had been asked, early on in the meeting, what his position was, he had demurred, not wanting to influence anyone. Lucius, on the other hand, felt no such compunction, and had detailed his own reasoning for not allowing the Blades to leave the Wayne Enterprises fold.

As the meeting passed the hour mark, just as one of the representatives of Luthor's group of investors was speaking, all of the lights and computers in the room suddenly went dark. Luckily, the Board room was lined on one side with floor to ceiling windows, and remained bright enough to see.

Dick looked with alarm at Lucius.

"Don't worry, folks. The back-up generators should come on in a couple of seconds." Lucius assured the occupants of the room.

Five seconds, then ten, passed, and Dick and Lucius looked at each other in concern.

"Let me go see what's going on." Dick jumped up and opened the door to Joan's office, which adjoined the board room on one side. "Joan, what's going on?"

Joan sat in the daylight from the windows, shaking her head, the phone receiver in one hand. "I don't know. No back-up lights came on, and the phones are dead.

A feeling of dread came over Dick. "Try to get security on your cell phone and keep everyone in the board room. I'm going downstairs to see if I can find out what's going on."

He ran from the room into the darkness of an interior hallway. Not even the 'Exit' signs were lit. He wished that he had his utility belts, and cursed himself for leaving it behind. He pulled his phone from his pocket and turned on the flashlight, illuminating a small portion of the hallway. He headed down it, and, bypassing the elevators, went to the stairwell.

It was pitch black within, but, with the help of his flashlight, he ran down the first flight of stairs. As he continued down to the bottom floor, more and more people joined him until there was a steady stream of people both ahead of and behind him.

When Dick reached the lobby, there were waves of people headed for the exits while he headed in the opposite direction.

One of the security guards recognized him and hailed him. "Mr. Grayson! We should evacuate you. We have no idea what's happened. All of the lights and computers – and _everything _electrical seems to have gone down."

"No. I'm fine. Is anyone hurt?"

"No, Sir."

"Do we know what happened?"

"A door into one of the electrical rooms was opened without proper authorization, and an alarm went off. But the door appears to be jammed – somehow, and we can't get in."

"Where's the electrical room?"

The guard pointed down one of the halls. "I can take you, if you'd like."

As they started in the direction that the guard indicated, the door to the ladies' room opened, and a _very _pregnant woman in sunglasses came out, and Dick ran right into her.

"Oh." She said in surprise, and Dick reached out a hand to steady her.

"I'm so sorry. Are you all right, ma'am?" He looked at her with concern, and she nodded. "You'd better get outside. It may not be safe in here."

She nodded again, and, with her head down, headed for the exit.

Dick watched her for a brief second as she disappeared into the crowd, and then turned his attention back to the security guard.

"This way, Mr. Grayson, Sir."

As Dick followed the security guard, something nagged at him. The pregnant woman seemed – familiar to him, somehow.

He stopped as a thought came to him. She was wearing sunglasses. She was wearing sunglasses in a building with no lights, after coming out of a dark restroom.

She was trying not to be identified.

He turned to look for her, and broke into a run. She had to be responsible for whatever had happened.

"Mr. Grayson?" The security guard began to run after him.

"That woman!" Dick called over his shoulder, but did not stop. "The pregnant one! Find her!"

He left the security guard behind as he sprinted forward, although he was brought to a standstill by the blockade of people attempting to exit the building.

Bursting through the throngs and out onto the sidewalk, he looked frantically around, darting amongst the crowds, searching for her, and jumped up onto a concrete half-wall to survey from above.

She was nowhere to be seen.

"Shit!" Dick swore.

The best clue he had to what might have happened had just disappeared.

* * *

Devon stepped out of the ladies' room, and, avoiding an older man who was rushing past, walked right into the path of someone else.

She ran right into a man. "Oh."

He reached out a hand to steady her, and she looked directly into the eyes of Dick Grayson. He was dressed in a suit and tie, and, despite the momentary terror that went through her, she reflected that he looked _very _handsome.

"I'm so sorry. Are you all right, ma'am?" He looked at her, his beautiful blue eyes filled with concern, and she nodded.

_He doesn't recognize me! Thank God!_

"You'd better get outside. It may not be safe in here." He said, and she nodded again, and, with her head down, headed for the exit.

What the _hell _was _Dick Grayson_ doing here, at Wayne Enterprises? She recalled him telling her that he had a night job at Wayne Tech, but what was he doing here at the Wayne Enterprises Building? Wayne Tech was across town. And why was he in a suit, no less?

_Maybe he's interviewing for a job_, she thought. _He did say he wanted to keep working for Wayne after graduation. _

"This way, Mr. Grayson, Sir." She heard the security guard say, and she whirled sharply. Dick and the guard were walking away. Why was the guard being so obsequious with someone interviewing for a job?

_Get out, Devon, _her voice of self-preservation told her, and she obeyed it. She pushed through a group of people, and came out onto the sidewalk, crowded with people, into the cold, sunny day. Despite the turmoil she felt inside at seeing Dick, and the questions she had, she pushed it all away. She needed to get out of there first.

"Walk to the end of the block and turn right." Larry's voice in her ear said, and, with a nod, she followed his directions. The assembled groups of people milled about restlessly and in confusion, and Devon could hear sirens in the distance.

She turned the corner and a white sedan skidded to a halt beside her.

"Get in." Larry sat at the wheel, and, without thinking, she yanked the door open and slid in. The car took off, flinging her back against the cushions.

"Good job, girly."

"Getting in the car or sabotaging Wayne Enterprises?" She asked dryly, removing the pads from her cheeks.

"Both. You did what we needed you to do, and you got away with it."

"Glad to oblige. Want to tell me _why _I sabotaged Wayne Enterprises?"

"Not really your business. Now take off the wig and and glasses. You won't need them anymore."

"But blondes have more fun, don't they, Larry?" Her pulse was still racing, and she felt a certain adrenaline thrill at having gotten away safely.

Her blond boss gave a short laugh. "Tons."

She pulled off the wig and tossed it down, and removed the sunglasses. "When can I get rid of the belly?"

"Now is a good time."

Careful not to flash him any skin, she pulled the air bladder from beneath her skirt and deflated it. "There. All back to Devon, now."

"Get rid of the nose inserts at home. I don't need those nasty things in my car."

"This your car?" She asked, looking around the interior. It was a Chevy, and very nondescript.

"For the next two hours, yeah." He pulled up to a curb. "This is where you get out. Walk the last two blocks."

"Such a gentleman."

"That's me."

She reached for the duffel bag, but he stayed her hand. "Leave that behind. I'll get rid of the evidence."

She gave him a long look, uncertain whether she should trust him, but finally nodded. What could she do, anyway? Sprint away with the bag?

"You'll get rid of everything?"

"There won't be anything left to connect _either _of us with this job."

"Good." She got out of the car.

"You'll be hearing from us," he promised, then sped off, leaving her watching him.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later That Afternoon**

**December 4th **

'Can you tell me what the hell is going on there?" Bruce's voice was distinctly annoyed.

Dick rubbed one of his temples with his free hand. He had dreaded calling Bruce; he knew that his father would not be pleased with this incident. "Someone set off a portable EMP in one of the electrical rooms. It shut off _everything_ that was wired in the building."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Twenty-nine people were stuck in elevators, but we got them all out. That's all."

"Have you got the device that was used?"

"We've got it." Dick looked at it on his desk, a charred and mangled mess. "It had a small explosive charge that went off as soon as the EMP was deployed. It's ruined beyond recognition."

"Give it to Lucius anyway for analysis."

"I will."

"Is the building still offline?"

"A lot of it, yeah. We're going to have the electrical department working on it around the clock."

"Send employees who aren't up and running home. No use having them puttering around with nothing to do. They'll just get in the way."

"Some of the repairs may take weeks. Half the electrical system is _fried_."

Bruce sighed. "Anything that isn't of a sensitive nature can be done via telecommuting. Have Reynolds in H.R. give me a call and we'll go over details."

"Yeah. Sure thing. Have you spoken with Lucius?"

"Only for a minute. He's being pulled in a thousand different directions."

"Yeah. And the board never even came to a vote about the Blades."

"That will have to wait."

"Do you think someone was trying to delay the vote?"

"It seems a _drastic _thing to do for a hockey team."

"Yeah." Dick said slowly.

"Someone was trying to override security, maybe."

"Maybe."

"Anything missing?"

"Not that we know of."

"Any rooms accessed during the blackout?"

"We don't know how many electrical door locks may have been compromised. It may have been every lock in the entire building. _Everything _may have been accessible."

"And we have no idea who might be involved."

"No. We got a break, though. I saw a woman leaving the building. I think she may have been involved."

"Why do you think that?"

"She was wearing sunglasses inside, even though all the lights were out."

"That's a flimsy deduction."

"I've got a feeling."

"Get an I.D. on her?"

"No."

"Surveillance?"

"All the cameras were out."

"She _must _have entered the building at some point."

"Lucius has a man on it right now, going over surveillance footage."

"Did he see the woman?"

"Well, no."

"Then shouldn't it be _you_ going over the footage?"

Dick ran a hand through his hair. It would take _hours _to go through all the film taken that morning. "Well, I've told them that the woman we're looking for is a pregnant blonde. How many of those could there be?"

"A _pregnant _blonde woman? A _pregnant _woman sabotaged my company?"

"It was probably a disguise." Dick conceded.

"What do you think may have been her objective?"

"To put Wayne Enterprises offline? To slow down progress in _something_? It could be anything."

"Find out from Lucius if there were any sensitive projects that were delayed by this interruption."

"I will."

"I should come back." Bruce's voice was equal measure worry and irritation.

"I can handle this." He wanted to prove to Bruce that he could. "Besides, you can't take Damian away from Talia after only a day. She'll be _livid_."

"Yes, I know. And I haven't finished my investigation here, either."

"Any new information?"

"I'm going over surveillance footage myself right now, looking for our mysterious diamond merchant."

Dick sighed. If Bruce did not think it a waste of his time to go over surveillance footage, Dick surely could not refuse to do the same.

"I'll go over all the pictures we've got."

"Thank you."

There had been a thought nagging at Dick ever since the realization had come to him about the blonde being involved. "Bruce, do you think it might have anything to do with the woman who's shot at us?"

There was a long silence. "Dick, you know what that would mean."

"Yeah. I do." It would mean that _someone _knew that Bruce Wayne and Batman were the same person.

"If that _is _the case, it narrows our list of suspects."

"Or it means that someone _else _knows."

Again, Bruce was silent for a long moment. "Yes. There is that possibility."

Dick squeezed his eyes shut. "This goes _deep_, doesn't it?"

"Yes. It may very well go _very _deep."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Please, no one say that those last couple of lines sound vaguely pornographic.

A note on the various tech, etc., in this chapter: portable EMP devices do not, to my knowledge, exist – except in Batman's world, in which he has an EMP gun (in the movies, definitely – I don't recall if there is one in the comics). And, of course, there is one that is used in YJ to defeat Red Inferno and Red Torpedo. I assume that "skeleton" electronic key cards might exist, although I am not certain if there is one that could completely disable a door and a lock. The air-filled fake "pregnancy belly" I made up, although you can buy latex ones online. I needed a very portable one for Devon to use.

As I have mentioned before, a Wayne Enterprises Building separate from the Wayne Tower doesn't exist in the comics (I borrowed the idea from _Arkham City_), and, since it doesn't exist, I felt free to put it anywhere in Gotham, so I chose Ninth and Gardner. Why not, eh?

As to who was responsible for this little action at Wayne Enterprises (and why), well, I guess you're going to have to wait to find out.

Until then, PLEASE REVIEW! You know you want to!


	43. Chapter 43

**Gotham City**

**Later That Day**

**December 4th **

Devon balled up the clothes that she had worn to Wayne Enterprises and put them into a bag, intending to throw them away with the rest of the diner's trash. She never wanted to see them again, and, every moment that they were in her possession, was a moment that she could be linked to the attack on Wayne Enterprises.

These little assignments of Larry's were starting to impact people on a larger scale. Who knew what sort of damage and havoc she had caused by shutting off the power? And what about injuries? Could someone have been hurt falling down dark stairs or in some other way?

She sighed. She couldn't go on like this – being Larry's lackey – doing things that she _knew _were wrong.

But what could she do about it? He had her at his mercy. Not only did the organization he worked for pay her tuition and the mortgage on the diner, but he had also threatened her and her grandmother if Devon did not do as he said.

For not the first time, she wondered how she had gotten herself into this mess and wondered how she could get out of it.

There must be some way. There must be!

She looked at the clock next to her bed. It was almost noon. She still had some time left in her shift, but she did not want to go downstairs to the diner and smile at strangers who had no idea that she was no better than a terrorist.

She grabbed her laptop and walked to the dining room, laying it on the table. Maybe she could do some studying – she hadn't logged into her online student account for a while. She didn't even know her current grades.

As she waited for her account to load, she thought again about the incident at Wayne Enterprises, and she remembered, suddenly, Dick Grayson. How could she have forgotten about Dick's odd appearance at Wayne Enterprises?

_Because you were so worried about being caught by the police or killed by Larry, that's how_!

She sighed. It was true. But, now that she had subdued her momentary terror, she wanted to think about why Dick had been there – and why that security guard had been so obsequious towards him.

She frowned at the screen. She had never done an internet search on him. Maybe it was time that she should.

"Stalker much?" She asked herself aloud, but, nonetheless, she opened a search page and typed in his name.

To her surprise, an entire page of results and photos of Dick Grayson – _her _Dick Grayson – came up on the screen.

With her jaw agape and her grades forgotten, she read the first few sentences of the first entry.

**Wayne Family Attends Gala to Support Wayne Foundation**

_Gotham Gazette_ – by Vicki Vale – September 16, 2018

_Bruce Wayne and all three of his sons were in Gotham City last night for the annual gala supporting the Wayne Foundation to benefit education and wayward youths. Wayne's eldest, adopted son Richard "Dick" Grayson (Wayne) has been quite the man about town..._

Devon's eyes grew wide. Dick Grayson was the adopted son of _Bruce Wayne_?! _Billionaire _Bruce Wayne? _That _was the dad that Dick mentioned so casually in passing?! The guy who had been pursuing _her_ was the eldest _heir _to the Wayne fortune – a fortune notorious for being immense – one of the largest in the United States, if not the world? And he had wanted to date _her_ – Devon Wakeman? A waitress working her way through school, with not even a car to her name?!

A billionaire's heir was completely out of her league!

At least the security guard's attitude towards Dick made more sense.

She clicked on the link to the remainder of the story.

..._ever since his recent break-up with his girlfriend of two plus years, Barbara Gordon, daughter of Gotham City Police Department Commissioner James Gordon. Grayson has been seen at hotspots in both Gotham and New York City, fueling speculation that he is following in his adopted father's famously dissolute footsteps._

The woman that Dick had brought with him to the diner – he had called her Babs. Was this the same woman? Were they back together? No. They _couldn't _be. He had told her – Devon – that he wasn't over her. He wouldn't have said that if he were back with Barbara Gordon.

She continued reading:

_Also at the gala was Timothy Drake (Wayne), the billionaire's brilliant adopted third son, currently attending Princeton, and ten year-old Damian Wayne, said to be Bruce Wayne's only biological child. As readers may remember, another adopted son, Jason Todd (Wayne) perished five years ago on a humanitarian mission to Sarajevo, where he was kidnapped and killed by unidentified militants._

She stopped reading and looked off into space. A lot of this was in line with what Dick had told her. The genius younger brother who was attending Princeton, and the precocious youngest brother, for whom Dick had displayed so much obvious affection. But, a brother who had _died_? Named _Jason_? Dick had introduced the young man who had come with him to the diner as his _brother_, _Jason_. Did he have _two _brothers named Jason? Or maybe Jason had not actually been killed? If not, it was obvious that the press, at least, did not know that.

_Bruce Wayne gave a tongue-in-cheek speech at the opening of the gala, asking attendees to open their wallets as often as they open their mouths to gossip, and starting the trend by publicly writing a $500,000 check towards the cause._

Wow. $500,000. That was more than the entire diner building was worth.

There was a picture displayed at the bottom of the page, and she scrolled until it nearly filled her screen. It was a picture of a smiling, tuxedoed Bruce Wayne at a podium, with Dick, in the background, also in a tuxedo, leaning over to listen to something another young man, presumably one of his brothers, was saying. An impish grin was on Dick's face, and Devon shook her head. Oh, yes. That was _definitely _her Dick Grayson.

Except that he _wasn't _her Dick Grayson. But it did explain why he was at Wayne Enterprises that morning.

It did also explain _quite a bit _about what Dick had told her about his life. His single father who had adopted him and who now wanted him to pursue a career in the family business. His youngest brother, who was their father's only biological child. Dick's obvious reverence and respect for his father – who wouldn't have respect for the man who had adopted not one, not two, but _three _orphaned boys?

Devon sat back, staring at the photo of Dick for a long while. Things started to fall into place, like a jigsaw puzzle, but there was something _strange –_ something _missing_. Maybe it was something to do with his brother, Jason. She didn't know. But she did feel like she didn't have the entire story.

Maybe she never would. After all, it wasn't as if she and Dick were ever likely to date and share confidences, especially now that she was with Nightwing.

She sighed, and closed the browser window to finally look at her grades, and after that, she would have to go down to the diner and get back to work. There was no way that her grandmother could handle the lunch shift by herself.

_Too bad there's no billionaire to adopt me._

* * *

**Alicante, Spain**

**The Next Day**

**December 5th **

The rain ran down the window pane in a random rhythm, and Damian, his hands crossed under his chin, supporting his head, idly followed the path that each rivulet took to pool at the bottom of the glass.

"Darling, isn't there something else you would rather do than stare at the rain all day?"

"Yes." Damian said, his words slurred by the fact that he did not life his chin from his hands. "Swimming. Boating."

Talia gave a deep sigh and came over to her son, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "If I could banish the storm, I would, Damian. But that is beyond _even _an Al Ghul's abilities."

"We could go into town." He turned to look at his mother.

"We are not – welcome there, I'm afraid. I've told you that." The residents of the nearest village were taken aback by Talia's unusual-looking and fierce bodyguards. And, although, normally, Talia would not care, she liked this house, and this place. It was convenient to much of her life, and she wanted to remain here, peacefully, for many years.

"So I'm to be a prisoner here – in this house, with nothing to do?"

She arched a brow. "Come now. Gotham is no summer camp year round. What do you do there when it is – _snowing _or raining?"

He shrugged, and turned back to the window. "I train. Or practice violin."

"You play violin?" She could not have been more surprised had he said that he was an altar boy at Gotham Cathedral.

"I've been taking lessons for over a year."

"Why, Darling, that it _wonderful_! I am certain that you are the best pupil that your master has."

"That is what Grayson said."

Talia expressed surprise. She had little regard for the urchin who had so _obviously_ bamboozled Bruce, but he _obviously _could discern her son's superiority.

"Well, I shall buy you a Stradivarius."

Damian held up a hand. "Please, Mother. Do not. I have quite a fine violin at home."

"But you have nothing to play here. You need a violin if you are to practice while you are with me. And a master. I shall bring in a teacher and a violin so that you may keep your skills up."

"Well, thank you, Mother, but I think it's unnecessary."

"Nonsense. I shall engage one right away."

Damian sighed, although he was secretly pleased. There was little that he did that impressed his mother. "Thank you. But, please, no Stradivarius."

She blinked at him. "But that is the best."

"I do not need one. I am only a beginner, Mother."

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't you want the best?"

"I am not an expert violinist by any measure. Perhaps, if I should continue with the instrument – and excel, you may purchase me a Stradivarius."

"Of course you'll excel! You're an Al Ghul, after all. Ubu!" She called her bodyguard, who stood just outside the room.

"Lady Talia." He made a bow of obeisance.

"Send someone to me. I must find my son a proper violin master and a violin. Immediately. Today!"

"Yes, my lady." He bowed and back from the room.

She turned to Damian with an overly eager smile. "You should have a master and a new violin by tomorrow." She linked her hands in front of her at waist level, and watched him expectantly. "Now that I have solved that problem, how would you like to spend the rest of the day?"

"I – I don't know. Perhaps a – board game?"

"A what?"

"Board game."

She shook her head slowly. "I am unfamiliar with this type of game."

Damian frowned. "Like _Monopoly_ or _Clue _or – _Battleship._"

"Hmm. Battleship? I don't have one, I'm afraid, Darling. Shall I buy you one?"

Damian gave an aggrieved sigh. "It does not use _real _battleships. They are plastic, and you arrange them on a..." He tried to mime placing the battleships, but sighed and dropped his hands. "Never mind."

"No, no. Tell me, Darling. I am – interested."

He shook his head. "It's just a – silly game that I play with Grayson – sometimes."

"Oh." She sniffed. "I do wish that you would _not _associate with that peasant. He is _so _far beneath us."

Damian's face reddened, and he stood, fists at his side. "_Do not _speak that way of him."

"But, Darling, _you _are the true Wayne heir. Not that pretender - that _circus rat_."

Damian drew himself up to his full four feet and eleven inch height. "Richard Grayson is among the finest men I have ever met, and, besides, he is my – brother. So you will _not _speak a word against him."

Talia's immaculately groomed brow arched again, and she inclined her head. "Had I known of your – _affection _for him, I would not have spoken thusly. But, Dearest, you must know that he is of an inferior caste – a product of wanderers, and thieves, and itinerant _performers_." She said with clear distaste.

"Nonetheless, Mother, I will not have you speak of him in such a manner. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

At that moment, Damian was every inch a Wayne _and _an Al Ghul, although all Talia saw was a recalcitrant child who required discipline. This was his father's doing! Allowing her son to associate with commoners and vagabonds, and taint him with their mediocrity! She must get her darling, precious child away from such influences.

Still, she would not tip her hand.

She gave a slight smile. "Of course, Darling. I will speak of him no more."

"Thank you, Mother." Damian returned the smile with one of his own, sweet and genuine, and Talia's heart twisted.

_I will save you, my son. My precious, precious child. You shall soon be where you belong._

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Afternoon**

**December 5th **

Dick rubbed his face wearily as he watched yet _another _surveillance tape. He had been at this particular task for, off and on, nearly a day. He had watched hour after hour of footage covering _all _of the Wayne Enterprises Building's entrances. All _seven _of them. Seven doors, through which thousands of Wayne Enterprises employees passed every day. Thousands of employees, thousands of faces, but none of them pregnant blondes.

So she, whoever she was, must have entered the building in another disguise.

Dick sighed, and laid his head down on his arms. How would he identify a woman who looked _nothing _like the one that he had run into? Where would he start?

He had thought to start with the traffic cameras around the building, but he had run into a dead end with that idea. The cameras nearby had been disabled a few minutes before the electricity had gone off at the Wayne building. Whoever had planned this attack knew what he or she was doing.

He looked at his watch. It was almost two thirty. He had skipped his first class, and, unless he left now, he would miss his next class. He shut off the surveillance footage and stood to stretch.

It felt good to stretch. It felt good to _move_. He had not gone out patrolling the night before because of the incident at Wayne Enterprises, and, were he truthful with himself, he was getting out of shape. He was not swinging as much as usual, and he was not running in the mornings, or working out – _at all_. In fact, most of his physical activity recently had been of the sexual nature, and, although that was the most fun way to burn calories, it was not exactly muscle building.

He flexed his arms and looked around the Batcave. He should come back here later and suit up and go out. It would feel good to swing again.

But for now, he had to get to school.

He ran up the stairs and into the quiet house. It really was _much _too quiet without Damian there. His little brother was always good for some noise.

The click-clack of Titus's nails behind Dick alerted him to the dog's presence, and he squatted down to pet the animal. "They left you here, didn't they, boy?" After scratching him behind the ears, Dick checked his food and water, and to make made certain that his rather large doggy door was functioning properly. "You take care of the house, Titus. Call if there are any problems."

Followed by the dog, Dick grabbed his backpack and went to the garage. He was about to sling his backpack into the back of his BMW when his eye alighted on his new motorcycle. He nodded in satisfaction.

He was going to take the Blackbird.

* * *

It felt good to ride in the daylight. At night, he never felt that he could go as fast as he would like – there were always dangers inherent in being unable to see for long distances.

But in the daylight, on the long, lonely road that led from Wayne Manor to the freeway, he could go as fast as he liked. There were no crossroads, and only long driveways with plenty of visibility.

And, with his helmet on, he felt anonymous and almost reckless. Bruce would have frowned on such behavior as foolhardy, but, then again, he regularly swung hundreds of feet off the ground from a tiny cord, so who was he to pass judgment?

Dick slowed down to the speed limit when he hit the freeway, and he was on campus in more than enough time to get to class.

As he was entering the building, he got a text. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he saw that it was Wally.

_**Hey, dude! How's it hanging? **_

_Not bad. You recover from Saturday yet?_

_**I have. Artemis not so much. She hasn't forgiven me.**_

_Tell her we only get drunk once a year._

_**You're forgetting New Year's.**_

_Shit, you're right. Okay, twice a year._

_**And both in December.**_

Dick leaned on the building as he typed._ Yikes. I'll get her a good Christmas present to make it up to her. _

_**She DOES have her eye on a food processor she saw online.**_

_Deal. Email me the details._

_**Dude, I was kidding!**_

_I wasn't. Seriously, send it to me._

_**That's nice of you.**_

_Not a big deal. I owe her already._

_**Yeah, you do. You getting ready for finals?**_

_If, by "getting ready," you mean watching 7 hours of surveillance tapes and choking down a burger and fries for the third meal in a row, then, yeah._

_**WTH? What happened?**_

_I didn't feel like cooking._

_**REALLY? I don't care about your eating habits! Why were you watching 7 hours of surveillance tapes?**_

_Someone sabotaged WE._

_**WHAT? When?**_

_Yesterday._

_**What happened?**_

_Took out the electric with a small EMP._

_**If that wasn't heinous, I'd be impressed. What were they after?**_

_No idea._

_**Is Bruce spitting nails?**_

_Yes and no. He and Dami are in Europe. He's spitting nails at ME._

_**Ouch. Hence the surveillance marathon?**_

_Yeah._

_**Well, don't wait until the last minute to study.**_

_I know._

_**And try to get some sleep instead of, you know...nookie.**_

_Yes, mother._

_**And stand up straight.**_

Dick chuckled. _I love you, man. You know that, right?_

_**Yeah, I know. **_

_See you this weekend?_

_**SERIOUSLY? I JUST TOLD YOU NOT TO WAIT UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE TO STUDY!**_

_So that's a no, then?_

_**We'll have plenty of time to hang after finals.**_

_Won't you have grading to do?_

_**That's a breeze. I've got it down to a science – mind the pun – each paper takes me fifteen minutes to grade.**_

_Times 150._

_**Shit. That's almost 40 hours. Artemis is going to KILL me. I promised we'd spend quality time together.**_

_And when exactly are you going to fit me in?_

_**I will. I will. Don't worry. I'm not going to abandon my best friend. Hey, maybe you can have a Christmas party.**_

_Maybe I can have a Christmas party?_

_**Dude, you KNOW Alfred lives for that.**_

_Alfred might – Bruce does NOT._

_**No prob. We'll arrange for a couple of prison breaks and he'll be out of our hair.**_

_Ha ha. _

Dick looked at the time on his phone, and realized that it was three o'clock exactly.

_Shit. I gotta go. Late for class._

_**Talk to you later, buddy.**_

* * *

Class consisted of a review for the final, the next week, and, for once, Dick paid attention.

After class, he headed back to the manor and spent several more hours with the surveillance footage before reluctantly updating Bruce.

"Dick. Do you have anything?"

Dick sighed, and threw himself on the sofa in the family room. "A bit of a headache."

"But no leads."

He covered his eyes with his hand. "No. Whoever she was, she came in as someone else."

"And traffic cameras?"

"Disabled. This was well-planned, Bruce."

"No doubt." His sigh was audible on the line. "Thank you for your hard work. We'll work more on leads when I get home."

"When will that be?"

"Monday, most probably. I'm expecting to get Damian back on Sunday."

"Have you heard from him?" Dick idly turned over and flipped open the pizza box on the coffee table.

"Yes."

"Is he having – fun?" He chose a slice and pulled off the pepperoni for Titus, who sat waiting patiently next to him.

"To be completely honest, Dick, I'm not sure that Damian knows _how _to have fun. And I'm _certain _that Talia doesn't."

"Would it be inappropriate at this point to say that's the pot calling the kettle black?" There was silence on the line, and Dick chuckled as he chewed pizza. "I guess it would be." A thought occurred to him. "Hey, isn't it like three A.M. there? What are you doing up so late?"

"I _am_ the night."

Dick's eyes opened wide. "Bruce? Was that a _joke_?"

"It may have been." There was a suppressed note of mirth in his father's voice.

"That's the third this calendar year!"

"Well, there's a new year coming up soon."

Dick grinned. "Will telling more jokes be a resolution of yours?"

"I sincerely doubt it."

Dick laughed, and he could have sworn he heard a chuckle on the line.

"Sleep well, Bruce."

"You, too, Dick."

Dick was about to end the call when Bruce hailed him. "And Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"Take some nights off from swinging. You could use the rest. And the time studying."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Wally told me the same thing."

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but Wally and I agree."

"Great minds think alike?"

"Apparently. And take some time off from seeing your girlfriend. Not for the reason you think." He hastened to add. "She needs to study, too."

Dick knew that his father was right. "I will. I'll stay home and be a good boy."

"_That _I doubt, as well."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Late The Next Night**

**December 6th **

Dick rapped at the window, and Devon, studying on her bed, looked up with surprise. It was earlier than usual for Nightwing to visit, and, although she was glad that he was here, she _really _had to study.

Making certain that the burglar alarm was disabled, she lifted the window.

He leaned in on the sill and smiled at her cheekily, rain plastering his hair to his head. "Miss me, baby?"

"Oh, have you been gone?" She asked, equally as cheekily.

"Hasn't your bed been cold?"

"Like a freezer. Which is what it will feel like in here if we keep the window open. Is it snowing yet?"

"No. Just cold rain."

She smiled and helped him through the window, even though she was sure he didn't need it.

Once he was inside, she wrapped her arms around him despite his soaked uniform, and kissed him, long and slow. She finally broke away. "I'm all wet now."

"I bet." He murmured, lowering his head to nuzzle at her collar bone.

"Smart ass." Despite her words, she gave a low, breathy sound. "I'm studying – ahhhhhhhhh." She quieted when his teeth nipped her there.

"Hmmm. Can't you take a _little _break?"

"Are you the devil?" She asked as his tongue dragged along her skin.

He chuckled. "Temptation's the name of the game." He he took one of her breasts in his mouth, and she protested.

He looked at her. "Does that hurt?"

She gave a twinge of pain and nodded.

"Must soon be that time of the month."

She blinked, thinking. "Yeah. I guess. I forgot about that."

"The dark days, I call it. Oh. Did I say that out loud?"

She chuckled. "I know that you hate it."

"Don't you?"

"It's not my favorite."

"Mm." He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

"My laptop." She protested, feebly, as he laid her down.

"I'll take care of it." He removed it from the mattress and set it down on the floor, along with her books.

"Don't drip on it."

"Here. I'll get rid of these wet clothes." He began to strip.

"How is it that you can distract me from _everything_?" She asked as she watched him undress.

He grinned as he pulled off his uniform top. "It's my physical perfection. You just can't resist me."

She pulled off her own t-shirt and tossed it aside. "If that weren't so true, I'd consider you conceited." Topless, she pointed at him severely, and he found himself inexplicably turned on. "An hour. No more."

A mischievous smile grew on his face. "Yes, Ma'am." He was already planning the stern headmistress/naughty schoolboy scenario playing in his head.

* * *

An hour turned into an hour and a half, and, despite herself, Devon found herself falling asleep in Nightwing's arms. Cradled in the warmth of his arms, she heard, on the edge of her consciousness, her text alert go off.

She ignored it as she snuggled into him, eyes closed.

There was another alert and Nightwing jiggled her. "Love. You've gotten some texts."

Her eyes shot open. _What_? "What?"

"You've gotten some texts. Four, I think."

"Huh?" She scrambled upright and grabbed for her phone.

_Larry_!

She swiped at the screen.

_**I have a job for you.**_

_**Tonight, so wake up.**_

_**Are you sleeping?**_

_**Wake the hell up!**_

She turned the phone off, and shot Nightwing a brief glance. He had not seen the texts – she was certain of it. She smiled. She would ignore the texts – let Larry think she was asleep. "Just a mass text from my study group. They have _boundary _problems."

"Ah." He, too, sat up. "I should probably go. You've got studying to do – or sleeping, maybe – and I've overstayed my time limit." He leaned forward to kiss her.

"Hmm." She bit his lip softly. "I'm done with finals on Tuesday. Then I'm all yours from two P.M. on every day."

"Afternoon delights, huh?" He considered her request after she had released his lip. "I don't usually do the hero get-up in the daylight."

"I could wear a blindfold so that I can't see you clearly." She pressed her lips against his pectoral muscle.

"_Ooooh_. A blindfold, eh? Now you're talking!" He kissed the top of her head.

"Or else you can come into the diner..."

"And meet you in the ladies' room?"

"Sounds good." She purred.

He felt himself begin to harden again, but he remembered his promise to her, and his own studying. "I've got to go." He hopped off the bed and began dressing.

She leaned back and watched him as he slid on his uniform. He was undeniably, unequivocally, the sexiest, most handsome man she had ever, ever seen.

Ever.

And she was the luckiest woman in the world.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Oh, yeah, she's lucky, all right. Lucky Dick doesn't know the truth!

Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed Damian's continued visit with his mother, and Devon's discovery about Dick's background. There MAY be some repercussions about THAT little secret!

Please review, and make me HAPPY! : )


	44. Chapter 44

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

**December 7th**

Devon had a feeling that she knew who it was before she even answered the call.

She was wiping down a table in the diner that had just been vacated when she felt the vibration of the phone in her pocket, and she took it out trepidatiously.

Larry's contact was displayed, and, with a sigh, she answered it.

"Hello?" She left the cleaning rag on the table and walked out of hearing range of the customers.

"Where the hell were you last night?" He asked fractiously.

"Here."

"Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"What time was it?"

"What does it matter what the time was?"

"I turn the phone off when I go to bed, Larry." She crossed her arms on her chest .

"Yeah, well, don't. When I call you, I expect you to answer."

"_Yeah, well_, I'm not your damn slave." Who did he think that he was?!

"Getting cocky, are you? I have a remedy for that."

She was certain that he did. "Look, I'm sorry. Okay? I've been doing a lot of studying, and I've been – tired."

He was silent for a long moment, and, when he responded, he was sullen. "Don't let it happen again."

"I won't."

"I had a job for you last night." He sounded petulant now.

"Can I do it tonight?" She was apprehensive, but she asked nonetheless.

"Nah. I did it myself."

She gave a breath of relief. She really did _not _want to do any more jobs for him. The Batman job and the Wayne job had been much too stressful. "Oh."

"Just make sure you keep your phone on from now on."

He hung up, and Devon studied the phone for a long moment before putting it back in her pocket.

* * *

**Alicante, Spain**

**That Afternoon**

**December 7th**

Damian tugged on the fishing pole and gave a shout of triumph as the amberjack on his line jumped out of the water, allowing the sun to reflect off its blue and silver scales. It seemed to be more than half Damian's height and looked to be about eighty pounds.

"Oh, Darling! It's magnificent!" Talia clapped as the fish fell back into the water.

Damian grinned and, bracing himself against the boat's sidewall, reeled the line in a bit.

"Ubu! Ubu! Come help Damian reel in his fish!" She called to her manservant, and then turned to her son. "Let Ubu finish it off, Darling."

Damian's expression darkened. "No! This is _my _catch, and I will bring it in!"

Ubu came up, prepared to take over, but Talia waved him away. "He can do it, Ubu. _Of course_ he can do it. He doesn't need your help."

Ubu gave an obsequious bow and stepped back.

"Mother! Mother! Look at the fish. It's _huge_!" Damian exclaimed.

"Of course it is, my darling. I would expect nothing less from an Al Ghul." Talia put a hand up to hold her floppy hat on her head as a strong wind blew past the boat.

"And a Wayne." He reminded her as the fish jumped out of the water again, and he used that moment to reel in his line to shorten the fish's tether.

"Careful, Damian. You do not wish to lose it."

"I _won't _lose it." He pulled up on the pole.

He continued to reel it in until it was near the boat, and, securing the rod, he reached over the side to the water, intending to bring his catch in. He grasped the line and started to pull the writhing fish onboard, but the animal fought him mightily, drenching Damian and trying to pull away.

Damian felt a presence come up behind him, and saw Ubu's arm reach over him to grab the line, and, with one yank, pulled the fish into the boat.

Damian fell back as the fish hit the deck, flopping and gasping for air.

"Oh, Darling! What a _wonderful _haul. Ubu! Remove the hook from the mouth."

"Yes, Lady Talia." Ubu efficiently took the hook from the fish's lip, and tossed it aside.

It really was magnificent, Damian reflected, its scales shiny and clean. Its eye was big and alert, but it seemed to be terror-stricken.

Damian frowned as he watched it thrash, its muscular body spasming and contorting, entering its death throes.

"Shall we eat it, Darling, or have it mounted? There is a spot right over the mantel that would be ideal for it, if you'd like."

Damian looked at his mother as if looking at a stranger. How could she sit so calmly by and watch this creature die?

"Neither." Damian shook his head, grabbed the fish by its tail, and began to drag it towards the railing.

"Damian! Whatever are you doing?" She watched as her son struggled with the fish.

Damian was silent as he attempted to pull the amberjack over the railing.

"I asked you a question! _What _are you doing?" His mother asked peevishly.

"I'm returning him to the ocean. Where he belongs." The fish continued to fight his savior.

"Don't be ridiculous! You just _caught _it."

"And now I'm setting him free. He's _my _fish. I can do with him what I like." Damian slipped on the sea water that covered the deck, and went down heavily on one knee.

"_Oh_." Talia gave a sound of disgust. "You're being maudlin. Ubu, finish it off." She waved her hand dismissively.

"No!" Damian shouted, just as Ubu picked up a large, wicked-looking sword.

They both looked at Damian as if he had suddenly grown another head. "Damian." His mother said, her voice stern, "I will _not _abide such ludicrous sentimentality towards a _fish. _Ubu." She pointed towards the amberjack, still thrashing. The manservant grabbed the animal, but Damian, with surprising strength, shoved the man away.

"I said _no_!" The boy grasped the animal by the tail again, and, using all his energy, dragged it to the railing and tossed it overboard.

Damian felt a hand on his arm to prevent him from falling into the sea, but shook it off and watched as the fish righted itself in the water, and swam away.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

**December 7th **

Devon watched her grandmother across the table as the old woman silently chewed her dinner. There was so much that she needed to tell the older woman; so much that she _wanted _to tell her – about her mediocre grades, about how she didn't know what she wanted to study, about Nightwing, and how much she loved him, about Larry's missions, and that Nightwing was the object of one, and how she was failing at one of them. But she could not tell her all of those things. But she _had _to tell her of the last, at least, because it was, at the moment, the most critical.

Devon pushed the green peas across the plate, and looked down at the pattern she was making, and decided to plunge in. "Grandma, I think I'm in trouble."

Marie looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

Devon was silent for a long moment, not knowing what to say. "I didn't do one of Larry's missions."

Her eyes narrowed. "Which one?"

She sighed. "The one I've been working on all semester."

"Bringing in Kid Flash?"

"Yeah. That one."

Her grandmother looked at her for a long moment. "Why not?"

She shrugged, and continued toying with her food. "I met him."

"You were _supposed _to meet him."

"Yeah. I know. But I _talked _to him."

"And?"

"And? And he's a nice guy. With a fiancée. With a good life. And I'm not going to ruin it."

"So you'd prefer _our _life ruined?"

She threw down her fork. "No, Grandma! I would _not _prefer it. But I am _sick _of being Larry's bitch for crap like this! He wants me to _pretend _to try to kill someone! He wants me to _sabotage _a building – which I _think _makes me a domestic terrorist! He wants me to _screw _some guy I don't even know so that _that guy _will in turn screw _over _his friends! And I'm _sick _of it!"

Marie was silent.

Devon looked at her unblinkingly. "I just – don't want to do this. It's _wrong_."

Marie finally nodded. "All right. So how are we going to get out of it, then?"

Devon gave a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Grandma. For understanding."

Her grandmother returned the smile. "We're family. Family is always number one." She sat back. "So, do you have any ideas?"

Devon shook her head. "Not really. I mean – we could take some of the money from the diner and run. Just, you know, keep the deposits for a couple of days – enough to buy some plane tickets and – get out of Gotham."

Marie shook her head. "Most we could probably get away with is four or five days' worth, and that wouldn't be more than four thousand dollars – _if _we're lucky. We can't disappear with only four thousand dollars." At Devon's silence, she continued. "Besides, once we start running, we'll never be able to stop. I don't want that kind of life. And I sure as hell don't want that kind of life for _you_."

"What can I do, then? The semester's over next week."

Marie's look was calculating. "Let me handle this."

"What? Grandma, no." Devon shook her head. "This is _my _responsibility_._ I'll tell Larry."

Marie shook her head. "Say _nothing _to Larry."

"But –"

"Nothing." Marie pointed at her granddaughter. "Do you understand?"

Devon nodded solemnly. "Yes. I understand."

Her grandmother squeezed her hand. "Why don't you go do some studying?"

Devon sighed. "Yeah. I really need to."

Marie nodded, and watched as her granddaughter left the room. She reached into the pocket of her sweater and pulled out her little used cell phone.

She pulled up the only contact on the phone and dialed it. When the call was answered, she did not say hello.

"We have to talk."

* * *

**Alicante, Spain**

**The Next Day**

**December 8th**

Damian watched his mother as she watched one of the maids folding Damian's clothes and putting them into his suitcase.

Talia sighed, and turned to her son. "Darling, you _know _that you don't have to go tomorrow. We can stay here for as long as you like."

"I'd like to go back to Brussels."

She looked at him blankly, then nodded. "Very well. We can return to Belgium. There are many things that we can do there, after all. Museums. Shopping. We could go to Paris, as well. It has been many years since I went to the Louvre. Perhaps you'd like to go there."

"Another time, Mother."

She gave a stiff nod. "Of course. You're – eager to see your father. I quite understand."

"Thank you."

"I will talk to him about another visit, some time soon. After the new year. Or Christmas."

Damian shook his head. "Not Christmas. We have – plans." They did not actually have any plans yet, but he did _not _want to spend Christmas with his mother.

She frowned at her son. "Damian, I feel that you've become – distant from me."

"We live thousands of miles apart, Mother."

"No. I don't mean that. We used to be so – close. And now – now I feel that I barely _know _you." She dismissed the maid, and they were left alone

Damian returned to her the blank look that she had given him earlier. "I don't know why you feel that way."

"I never _see _you, and when I _do_, you wish to _rush _right back to your father."

"He needs me."

"Darling, your father _needs _no one."

"No. You're wrong. He needs me. I'm his son."

"He has – Richard and the other one. The bourgeois one."

"Drake." Damian supplied. "But _I _am Robin. Not them. And he needs Robin now – more than ever."

Talia looked at him sharply. "What do you mean by '_more than ever_?'"

Damian flushed, but refused to speak.

"Damian. Tell me what you meant by that."

"Nothing, Mother." He turned away. "Nothing at all."

"Something has happened. What? What has happened?"

"It's – it's nothing."

"_I _will be the judge of its importance. Tell me."

A quick look to his mother, then away. "Someone – has been shooting at Father."

She looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged. "Bah. Someone is always shooting at the Batman. Unless you mean that someone has taken out a contract on his life – or _yours_."

Damian looked guilty for a moment, but then shook his head vehemently. "No. This – I – I don't know, really."

Talia put a manicured hand up to her neck in alarm. "Damian, have you been targeted?"

"No! No, Mother. Really."

"Do not lie to me, Damian. I am your mother. I deserve to know if you are in danger."

"Mother, I am _Robin_. There is danger inherent in the job."

"But is there an additional, credible threat about which you are not telling me?" At his continued silence, she went on. "I _will _find out. You know that I will. I would prefer that you tell me rather than my operatives."

He sighed finally. "There have been a number of – attempts on our lives." He was leery of telling his mother too much. "Someone with a high-powered rifle. I have never been hit, nor has Father."

"Well, whomever this - person is who is shooting at you is not a very good shot, then."

"Apparently not. Although Grayson was hit in the shoulder and was also knocked unconscious by the gun – _woman_."

Talia's brows shot up. "_Woman_? How – singular. A female assassin – and an inefficient one at that."

"Yes."

"I am uncomfortable with this, Darling. What if you father cannot protect you? What if you are hit accidentally? What if you are indeed the target, and this – assassin – has merely been unlucky?"

"Father and I are trying to get to the bottom of this, Mother. Have no fear."

"But I do have fear. How can I not? You are my only son. My beloved only child."

"I am quite safe, I assure you."

"Forgive me, Darling, but I need more than _your _assurances. I would feel better if you were out of harm's way entirely. I can protect you."

"_Father_ can protect me. _I_ can protect myself."

She shook her head. "I think it best if you stay with me – at least until your father uncovers whomever is plotting against him."

Damian shook his head vehemently. "No, Mother. I told you. Father _needs _me."

"And I _need _your safety."

"I am going back with him to Gotham, Mother. You cannot sway me. To try is futile. And, should you attempt to keep me from going, I will escape, and I shall never forgive you."

"But, Damian, don't you _want _to stay with me?"

"Father needs me. At this moment, that is paramount. I hope you understand."

She drew in a deep breath. "Very well."

Damian gave a small smile. "Thank you, Mother."

She smiled in return. "I will miss you."

"I will miss you, too."

She looked at him for a long moment. "Would you like to – play a game, now, Darling? That – card game, perhaps? I believe you called it.'_Go Angling_.'"

Damian nodded enthusiastically. "Go Fish. Yes, I'd like that. I'll go get a deck of cards."

"Of course, Darling. I will be waiting."

She watched him as he ran from the room, and her eyes narrowed in thought.

She silently picked up her phone and called a number very familiar to her.

Once the call was answered, she wasted no time on niceties. "We must get my son away from _those _people. They have _corrupted _him."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Night**

**December 8th **

"God! I hate this!" Dick pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. He had been studying for several hours, all alone in the manor, with only Titus for company, and he was tired. He was tired of reading about the history of computing, and tired of worrying about the computer program that he _hadn't _written yet. Tired of his classes, and tired of only getting a few hours sleep because he had to leave Devon's room almost every night and drive back to the Manor or back to his apartment. He wanted to go to sleep with her and wake up with her, and he had _no _way of pulling that off.

He looked at his phone. It was 9:30. Maybe he could go see her now.

But she was studying, and he had promised Bruce that he would let her do that, and that he would study, as well. And he had already broken that promise once this week.

_But it's Saturday night_, he rationalized. _No one studies on Saturday nights._

_The weekend before finals they do_, he corrected himself.

Maybe he could just – call her – as Dick, of course, and chat for a little bit. She hadn't told him to leave her alone in a while. She might not mind. After all, he still had to apologize for the drunken phone call on his birthday. After all, it was the _least _that he could do.

He pulled up her contact and called her, and she answered after the third ring.

"Hello?" She asked, although he was pretty certain that she knew who it was.

"Um, hey, uh, Devon." He squeezed his eyes shut at how pathetic he sounded.

"Dick? Hi." She sounded unsure.

"Hey. You, uh, studying?"

"Oh, yeah. You?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Studying." _Oh my God, Dick, are you a ten year-old_? _Can't you talk to her like a normal human being, and not an idiot? _"You?" _Shit! You already asked her that_!

She gave a small laugh. "Yep. Studying. Got all my finals on Monday and Tuesday, believe it or not."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Tell me. How about you?"

He thought for a moment. "One on Monday, one on Tuesday, and two on Wednesday. One of my computer classes has a program due rather than a test, and that's due on Thursday." He pondered, belatedly, her words. "Seriously, you have _five _tests in two days?"

"My luck, huh?"

"Well, at least you'll start your vacation sooner."

"Yeah. I guess. Cold comfort."

"I can – imagine." He was silent, nodding at her words, trying to think of something to say to keep the conversation going. "So. You doing anything fun over the break?"

She gave another short laugh. "Well, the diner's closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so I'm planning on going ice skating."

"Oh." _Stupid, stupid_! _What did you think? That she was going to go skiing in Aspen? Or to Vienna to spend the holidays_? "That sounds like fun."

"I hope so. What about you? Got any big plans?"

Bruce frequently took them down to his house in Palm Beach for the holidays, although they had not discussed it yet this year. Tim, of course, wouldn't be spending much of the break with them, being on academic probation at Princeton. "Uh. We might go down to Florida – don't really know yet."

"Oh, right. _Bruce Wayne _has a vacation house down there, doesn't he? And probably one in the Caymans, too. Or maybe you'll go to a chateau in the Alps."

_Shit. She knows_.

He gave a sigh and rubbed his forehead. "How did you find out?"

"Let's just say that the Wayne family does not keep a low profile on the internet."

"Devon, I'm sorry." He apologized, even though he didn't know why he should.

"You know, _Dick_, it is _totally _your business, and not mine, but you pretty much know all about my life, and I had to find out about yours on Google."

Now he knew why he felt the need to apologize. Because he _had _been hiding it. He hadn't wanted her to judge him by his family. He wanted her to like him for _him_. Maybe he should tell her that. "Look, Devon. I'm sorry. You're right. I was – hiding it. I just wanted you to see _Dick_, not _Bruce Wayne_'s kid."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. So you think I'd just like you for your money, huh? A gold digger?"

"Shit. This is _not _going well." He ran his hand through his hair wearily.

"You _think_?"

"Look, before Bruce adopted me, I was _poor_. And when I say _poor,_ I mean _poor. _I didn't mind it – or even know it. But I had – a good life. And then my parents died, and suddenly, I had less than that – I had _nothing_. And I went into foster care for a little while. It wasn't a long time, but long enough that I knew what it was like not to have friends, and not to have family. And then Bruce adopted me, and I – did. Have family, I mean. And then I started school, and I had friends. _Lots _of friends. But then – then I found out that a large percentage of those _friends_ only liked me because my dad was Bruce Wayne. So, I just – wanted – to be _me _with you. Not Bruce Wayne's kid."

She was silent for a long moment. "I just feel – like...I don't know. Like you've been hiding the real you."

_You have no idea_, he thought to himself. "I know. I – I don't know how else to tell you that I'm sorry."

He could hear her sigh. "I guess that it doesn't matter anyway. It's not like you owe me anything."

Dick decided to plunge in – no matter the consequences. "Devon. I like you. You _must _know that. I like you _a lot_. As my visits to the diner probably illustrated. And my drunken phone call. Sorry for that, by the way."

"Dick..."

"Just tell me. Please. Is there _any _chance for us? Any at all?" _What are you saying, Dick? What the hell are you asking her_? _You're sleeping with her already! Are you trying to get her to cheat on you – with __**you**__?_

"I – I – look, I really have to go. I have a lot of studying to do. I – I'll talk to you – soon, I guess."

She ended the call, and Dick smiled. Well, she hadn't told him _no_, after all.

* * *

Devon put down the phone and gave a deep sigh. What had possessed her to call Dick out on his secret? She had already decided _not _to say anything, and then she had gone ahead and dogged him on it! And, even though she had been mad, she _almost_ understood his reasons for not telling her. People probably treated him differently when they found out he was a member of one of the richest families in America. And not just a _member, _but the oldest child and _heir. _

But _why _hadn't she told him 'no' when he asked if there was a chance for them? What had she been thinking? She was with Nightwing, for crying out loud! And she was _in love _with Nightwing.

So why hadn't she told Dick that there was no future for them? Why had she told him that she would talk to him soon? What sort of a game was she playing with him?

Possibly a very dangerous one.

She shook her head. "_Idiot_."

* * *

**Brussels, Belgium**

**The Next Day**

**December 9th**

Damian drummed on the arm rest of the back seat of the limousine as the car pulled into the underground garage of the Rocco Forte Hotel in Brussels.

Talia took his hand affectionately and smiled at him, although it killed her to return him to Bruce. She regretted the impulse that had originally prompted her to deliver Damian to his father, and she now wished it undone. Damian was _her _son more than he would _ever _be Bruce's. He was an _Al Ghul _first and foremost, and belonged with her, in the world that _she _controlled; in the world that her father had built.

"So you shall come to visit me at the new year." She said. It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes, if you would like. And if the sniper has been identified and dealt with."

"Of course. Of course. And I shall come to Gotham for your recital. December twenty-eighth, I believe you said."

"Yes." He nodded. "I would like that above all else. The three of us together."

She smiled and nodded. "As would I."

Alfred stood by the elevator, and, as the limousine stopped next to him, he smiled.

Ubu sprang from the front seat of the car to open the door, and, as Damian and Talia climbed from the car, Alfred gave a small dip of his head. "Master Damian, Miss Al Ghul."

"Pennyworth." Damian greeted him.

"Did you enjoy your sojourn, Master Damian?"

"Yes. Where is my father?"

"Upstairs, awaiting you."

"I shall accompany my son. Your master and I have much to discuss."

"Of course, Miss Al Ghul. If you would follow me." He took one of Damian's suitcases from Ubu, and the four of them rode up in the elevator to the top floor of the hotel, where the most exclusive suites were located.

Alfred used a pass key to open the door, and Damian rushed through.

"Father! Father! I'm back."

Bruce, who had been sitting at the desk looking at his computer, smiled briefly when he saw his son. "Damian. I'm glad to see you. Did you have fun?" He stood and welcomed a hug from his son.

"Yes. We went fishing, and swimming, and played board games. And card games."

"That's wonderful." His eyes flickered upwards, and his smile disappeared when he saw Talia. "Talia. I didn't know you were coming up."

She gave her former lover a tight smile. "I was hoping to speak with you." She looked pointedly at Alfred. "In private."

Although one of his brows raised, he nodded.

Talia turned to Damian with a smile. "Darling, let Ubu take you down to the dining room for a bite to eat while I speak with your father."

Damian looked between his two parents suspiciously. "Father?"

"Alfred will go with you." Bruce looked at his manservant

Alfred inclined his head. "Yes, Master Damian. I understand that the restaurant has very tasty _mac and cheese_."

"I want to stay." Damian thrust his jaw out belligerently at his parents. "You are going to talk about me, and I _deserve _to be here."

Talia smiled. "Dearest, I just want to talk to your father about our plans."

"But..."

"Damian. Listen to your mother, please." Bruce ordered.

Their son glared at them for a moment, then, dropping his eyes, nodded. He left the room, followed by Alfred and Ubu, who kept a safe distance from each other.

Bruce turned to Talia expectantly, and she did not disappoint him. "I will not prevaricate. Damian has told me that there have been several _organized _attempts on your lives."

Bruce drew in a deep breath. "I see."

"_I see_? Is that all that you have to say? _My _son's life has been _threatened_, and all you can say is '_I see_?'"

"What would you like me to say, Talia? He is as safe as I can make him."

"That is not enough."

"What do you suggest that I do?" He demanded.

"Allow _me _to protect him."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "_How _will you protect him?"

"By taking him home with me."

Bruce shook his head. "Absolutely not."

She arched an elegant brow. "He is _my _son, too."

"_You _dropped him off on my doorstep _two _years ago for _me _to raise. Which I have been doing, and which I will continue to do."

"_I_ can protect him."

"So can I."

"This is not up for negotiation."

"That's right. It's not. He is coming home with me to Gotham."

"I will _not _allow you to take him."

'And how exactly do you propose to stop me? Kill me?"

Talia's face reddened. "Don't be ridiculous. I could no more hurt you than I could hurt Damian."

"Then you will allow me to take him with me." At her compressed lips, he sighed. "Talia, he is _happy _there. His life is – as normal as I can make it. As normal as _our_ son can ever have. He has Alfred and Dick – and I bought him a dog. It _is _what's best for him, Talia."

She shook her head. "He is _my _son, and I know what's best for him."

"He's my son, too." He said, echoing her earlier words.

Her face reddened. "So you refuse to allow him to come with me?"

"Talia. He _needs _you in his life, but he does not need to live as an Al Ghul."

"What is _wrong_ with living as an Al Ghul?"

"You brought him to me so that he could have a more _normal _life. Don't wrench him away from it."

She was silent, and Bruce continued. "Maybe you can – see him more often."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "In the new year. For _three _weeks."

"Fine."

"And I come to his recital."

Bruce raised a brow. "He told you about that."

"Should he _not _have? I _am _his mother, after all."

"Yes. You are. I won't forget that, Talia. And neither will he."

She appeared mollified. "You will protect him, Bruce."

"Yes. I will."

"If you cannot, _I_ will."

* * *

As Talia drove off, after kissing Damian good-bye and promising to see him after Christmas, she pulled out her phone and called someone.

She spoke without preamble. "I don't care what you have to do. I want my son back."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Here is another chapter in my endeavor to rehabilitate Talia's reputation. She loves her son, no matter what _Batman, Inc. _says. And Devon admitted to Dick that she knows his secret - well, one of them, at least.


	45. Chapter 45

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

**December 10th **

Marie Wakeman's morning was much like any other. She awoke by eight, dressed, made her breakfast, washed some clothes, and cleaned the bathroom. She would go down to the diner at a little before closing, to help Devon reconcile the money in the register and begin to clean the diner so that it would be ready for the next day's business.

Today, however, she had some _other _business to take care of.

She sat down at the dining room table and pulled out her cell phone.

The phone rang twice before her quarry answered. "What is it, Marie? This better be good."

"Oh, it's good, all right." She answered with confidence that she did not feel.

Larry sounded interested. "Oh, yeah? Out with it, then. I don't have a lot of time."

"You brushed me off last time I called you, Larry. You're going to listen this time." There was a mulish silence, and Marie took a deep breath. "You know that little _assignment _you gave Devon?"

"Which one?" He sounded suspicious now.

"The one with that boy – Kid Flash?"

"Yeah? She done it yet?"

"No. And she's not going to."

"What the hell are you talking about? Failure is _not _an option here."

"You listen to me right now, Lawrence Crock. I _know _why you assigned Devon to this."

"Oh, really?" He sounded smug. "So do I."

"You're not going to fool me by feeding me a line. It has nothing to do with your employer, and _nothing _at all to do with the Justice League or even their sidekicks."

"Oh, you think you know so much, do you?" His voice started to sound ugly.

"I _know _that Kid Flash is _dating _your daughter, and I'm _guessing _that you're not too happy with that."

"Oh, yeah? What makes you think that, Marie?"

"Larry, I'm not as befuddled as you think." At his silence, she continued. "You knew my son. You know how smart he was. Where did you think his brains came from? It certainly wasn't his father."

"Oh, yeah, well – _so what_ if you know? I'm allowed to disapprove of my daughters' boyfriends."

"You're pushing your _own _agenda, Larry. How would your employer feel about _that?_"

"Are you threatening me, Marie?"

"Maybe I am and maybe I'm not."

"You don't even know how to get in touch with the boss."

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't. Are you willing to gamble that I _don't_?"

There was a long silence. "What do you want me to do?"

"Devon hasn't done your personal mission, and you're not going to say a _damn _word about it. No repercussions. Do you understand?"

"Oh, yeah, Marie." She could almost hear his sneer through the line. "I understand."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Afternoon**

**December 10th **

Dick drove his motorcycle into the garage at Wayne Manor, and grinned. The limousine was back, which meant that his family was home!

He jumped off the bike as soon as the engine was off, pulled off the helmet, and sprinted up the stairs to the house.

He threw open the door leading into the kitchen. "You're home!" He called.

Alfred, who was never startled, turned from the counter and smiled at him. "We are indeed, Master Richard."

"I missed you. What's for dinner?"

"Yes, I saw all of the pizza boxes and fast food wrappers. Rest assured that there will be a healthy protein and _vegetables _for dinner tonight."

"Yes!" Dick thrust a triumphant fist into the air "I am dying for something that I don't need to put ketchup on."

"Do you put ketchup on pizza?"

"Only a little." He grinned. "Where's Bruce?"

"In his bedroom, I believe, Master Richard."

"And Dami?"

"In his own bedroom, the last I saw."

"How did everything go with Talia?"

"Well, she did return Master Damian with no duress."

Dick blinked at him. "That's good – I think."

"Yes, indeed. I understand, from Master Bruce, that she had some concerns about Master Damian's safety –"

"Ha!" Dick interrupted him. "That's a new one. _She's_ the one who used to pit him against assassins for _training_."

"Perhaps she has turned over a new leaf."

"Yeah. Maybe." Dick was obviously unconvinced.

"Master Bruce has conceded to more contact between Master Damian and Miss Talia."

"Great." Dick sighed. "Well, let me go welcome them home." He laid a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "I really _am _glad that you're back, Alfred. I missed you – not just your cooking."

Alfred smiled again. "I know, Master Dick."

Dick ran upstairs and found Bruce in his room. He knocked on the open door, and Bruce looked up from the sheath of papers he was reading.

"Come in, Dick."

The younger man came in, hands shoved in his pockets. He was glad to see Bruce, but, honestly, felt a bit ashamed that he did not have more leads on the woman who had sabotaged the Wayne Enterprises building.

"Hey, Bruce. Glad you're home."

"It's good to be home." He indicated the papers he held. "Just getting up to speed on the projects delayed by the attack. Oh. And your new motorcycle should be ready next Wednesday."

Dick smiled. "Thanks. That's great."

"You're welcome."

There was silence as Bruce returned to reading.

Dick cleared his throat. "Um – I've got all the surveillance footage on the computer in the cave for you to look at."

Bruce looked up at him again. "No need. You looked at them, after all."

Dick was surprised. Bruce wasn't going to review the footage? "Uh. Okay."

"Dick, how many times do I need to tell you that I _trust _you, before you believe it?"

Dick gave a sudden smile. "Probably only a couple of hundred more."

A shadow of a smile passed over Bruce's face, and he changed the subject. "How are finals going?"

Dick nodded. "Good so far. I have a program due on Thursday, too."

"You should stay here, at the manor, until you finish everything up. No need to make the commute back and forth to Blüdhaven."

Dick smiled more widely. "Thanks, Bruce."

"This is your _home_, Dick. Never forget that."

"I won't." He stood staring at Bruce for a long moment. "Thanks."

Bruce was silent, although he gave a firm nod.

"How was everything with Talia?"

Bruce shrugged. "Not as bad as it could have been."

"That's good."

"She found out about the sniper attacks. She was – upset."

"Oh, well. That's – bad, I guess. Unless she's involved, in which case, she's a good actress."

Bruce gave another nod, but did not comment on Dick's words. "She wants to see Damian more."

"That's bad, too, I guess."

"Damian _does _need his mother, Dick."

"With a mother like that, who need enemies?"

A pointed look from Bruce chastened his oldest son. "She's coming to his recital, and, then, after the new year, he's going to spend three weeks with her."

"Wow. That's a – long time. Is she taking him back with her?"

"I believe that she is taking him to the Caribbean. He requested swimming with dolphins, I understand."

"Oh. Well. That should be fun for him."

"Yes."

Dick compressed his lips and looked down at his feet. He did not want to say anymore of his suspicions about Talia, since Bruce _clearly _did not want to hear them. "What did you find out in Antwerp?"

"Precious little." Bruce shook his head. "This _thief_, whoever he is, is good. He hasn't allowed himself to be photographed – "

"What about the picture on the security cams at the diamond exchange?"

"He obviously knew where all of the cameras were. None of the shots show anything clearly."

"Facial recognition software?"

"Nothing."

"So you can't tell for sure that it's _not _Billy?"

"No. I can't. All I have is a feeling that it's _not _Numerous."

"Why?"

"For one thing, Numerous is _not _that smart."

"But he can follow directions."

"Yes. Assuming that it is Numerous, that still means that there is a decision maker."

"And Billy is just the delivery system."

"So to speak."

"And then there's the assassin, as well, of course."

"Yes. And your mysterious pregnant woman."

"She's not _mine_. She's more yours, really. It _was _Wayne Enterprises that she was targeting, after all."

"I suppose so. You said that the security footage is on the computer in the cave?"

"Yeah. You're going to check it again."

"No. I will run some facial recognition software on it, though."

Dick tried _not _to feel slighted. "I guess that I'll go see Dami now." He stood.

"He'll be pleased to see you."

"I missed him."

"He missed you, too. We all did."

Dick looked at him in surprise, and a slow smile spread across his face at his father's admission. "I missed you both. More than you know."

"Oh, I know."

* * *

Dick found Damian in his room, wrestling with Titus.

He leaned on the door jamb. "Hey, Baby Bird."

"Grayson!" For a moment, Damian's face lit up, then he composed himself. "I mean, 'hello, Grayson. How are you?'" He sat up, and Titus obediently sat next to him.

Dick grinned. "You missed me!"

"I did not!" Damian declared hotly.

"Yes, you did! You were just _smiling_, and you said my name with – _happiness_."

Damian folded his arms. "I am _not _happy!"

"You're not happy to be home?"

"Well, yes."

"And aren't you happy to see Titus?"

"Of course."

"And to see me, too?"

Damian gave him a slanted look. "I won't fall for that."

"Ha!" Dick pointed at his younger brother. "It doesn't matter what you said. I _know _that you missed me. Bruce said so."

Damian's eyes narrowed. "Father talks too much."

Dick's brows shot up. "No one has _ever _accused Bruce of that before."

"Tt." He stood up and tried to brush the dog hairs from his pants. "Any news on that psychotic yet?"

"I assume that you mean Jason?"

"How many psychotics do you know?"

Dick's eyes widened. "_Seriously_? More than I can count."

"Touché. Have you heard from that psychotic that you _insist _on calling our brother?"

"No."

"Hmm. I think that this _might _require _my _expertise."

Dick lifted one brow. "Really? Do you think you can do better than the world's greatest detective?"

"Surely you are _not _referring to yourself."

"I was referring to _Bruce_."

"Well, Father has had quite a lot on his mind lately. The sniper, the jewelry thefts, the sabotage of Wayne Enterprises –"

"He told you about that, huh?"

"Of course. I am his Robin, after all. And more reason that I should assist him with finding Todd."

"I don't know, Baby Bird. Jason was pretty clear about wanting us to leave him alone."

"Jason Todd does not issue orders to me, Grayson."

"Just be careful. Jason is _not _stupid."

"Your concern is misplaced."

His older brother looked skeptical. "Maybe you should talk to Bruce first."

"Father need not concern himself with such trifles."

"I don't know, Dami. Bruce was pretty – adamant that we leave Jason alone."

Damian looked at his brother for a long while. "Fine. I will discuss it with him."

"Well, good. That's a – good idea. To talk with him, I mean."

Damian nodded.

Dick smiled. "So tell me – how was Europe?"

Damian shrugged. "I went fishing, and swimming."

"How is – Talia?"

"She is – well."

"Good. Good." Dick nodded lamely. He wanted to tell Damian to stay away from her, but, mindful of Bruce's cautionary words, he did not. "Does your – mom – have a house in Alicante?"

"Yes. It is quite – spacious."

He nodded. "Bruce says that she's coming to the recital."

"Yes. I could not dissuade her."

Dick pasted on a smile. "Well, we'll all be one, big, happy family, then."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Early That Evening**

**December 10th **

Devon unlocked the outside door of the diner building and dragged herself upstairs. She had had two finals that day, but had three more tomorrow, and so, although she was tired, she knew that she would need to study far into the night.

She intended to grab a quick meal and take a shower before settling down with her books, and she stopped in the kitchen, where her grandmother was cleaning up the dinner dishes.

"Hey, Grandma." Her voice was weary.

Marie turned around, and a smile spread across her face. "Devon! You're _so _late."

Her granddaughter shrugged. "Had two tests today." Her voice was tired.

"I didn't even get to talk to you earlier."

Devon shook her head. "I had to get to campus early to get a good seat in class."

"Oh." Her grandmother frowned. "Do you have a minute?"

Devon sighed. "Yeah, I guess. While I'm eating dinner." She looked at Marie sharply. "Is everything okay?"

Her grandmother smiled and nodded. "Let me warm up your food. Why don't you go take a quick shower?"

Devon smiled. "Thanks, Grandma."

Although Devon wanted to linger under the warm water, she was back out in the kitchen in less than ten minutes, to a dinner of roast beef and mashed potatoes.

Her eyes opened wide at the meal, which was her favorite. "Roast beef? What's the special occasion?"

Her grandmother smiled. "We're celebrating."

Devon shook her head as she sat down. "Did we win the lottery or something?" She looked off into space speculatively. "No. The drawing isn't until Wednesday, so it can't be the lottery. Unfortunately. What is it?"

"I solved your problem." Marie said triumphantly, sitting down across from her granddaughter.

"Why? Are you going to go take my _three _finals tomorrow?" She cut into the beef.

'Not quite. I talked to Larry."

Devon put down her fork and looked at Marie with wide eyes. "What? _Why_?"

"I told him that you wouldn't be able to finish that mission."

"Which mission?" Devon's eyes took on a note of fear.

"The one with Kid Flash."

Devon shook her head. "No, Grandma. No. _Tell _me that you didn't say that to Larry."

"I did."

"But – you shouldn't have! Larry is – a little _crazy_. And his employers seem even crazier."

Marie smiled. "It doesn't matter. I told him."

Devon leaned towards her expectantly. "_And_?"

"And he said okay."

Devon blinked at the old woman. "He said '_okay_?'" She couldn't believe her grandmother's words.

"Yes. So you're off the hook."

Devon continued blinking at her grandmother, not knowing what to say. "I – I don't know what to say."

"_Thank you_ might be nice."

Devon stood up, sending her chair skidding along the floor, and impulsively rushed to her grandmother and gave her a hug. "Thank you! Thank you _so _much! I – I can't tell you how much this – wow – this just – _rocks_! I don't have to sleep with a stranger! I don't have to ruin someone else's life – and mine! I don't have to die because I didn't do it!" She looked at her grandmother suddenly. "I don't, do I?"

Her grandmother gave a small smile and shook her head. "No."

Devon pulled away and went back to her dinner. "You weren't able to get me out of trying to kill people, were you?"

"Afraid not." Her grandmother shook her head sadly.

"That's okay." Devon said, putting a piece of roast beef into her mouth. "I'll figure something out."

Her grandmother looked at her for a long time, a small smile on her face.

"This is really good. I mean, _really good_." Devon asked, swallowing a bite of food. She noticed her grandmother's stare. "What?"

"I know that you have finals tomorrow..." Her grandmother began.

"_Three _finals tomorrow."

"And _because _you have three finals tomorrow, I was thinking that _maybe _I could – wait tables tomorrow."

Devon stopped eating. "You're the best grandma in the world."

The older woman shook her head sorrowfully. "Doubtful. If I were the best grandma in the world, I would have kept Lawrence Crock out of your life."

Devon shrugged, and began to toy with her food. "You didn't have much choice. It's not like Mom and Dad left big honking insurance policies or anything."

"No. I know."

Devon gave a rueful half-smile. "Yeah. All they left me was _alone_."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Evening**

**December 11th**

It was over. It was finally, finally _over_. Her semester from hell was behind her!

Devon wanted to jump and dance and scream _hallelujah_ in the quad, and throw her textbooks into the air.

However, what she _actually _did was smile as she turned in her last final, breathe a deep sigh of relief as the door to the classroom closed behind her, and hummed as she left the building.

It was dark outside, and she pulled out her phone to look at the time. It was five minutes past eight. Shit. She had probably missed the last bus from campus.

She groaned. She would have to walk the six or so blocks to the bus stop at the movie theater, which had a scheduled stop past midnight.

She zipped her jacket all the way, and pulled a hat from her backpack. It looked like snow, and it certainly felt like snow. Great. She was going to have to walk six blocks – maybe through the snow...in the dark.

Well, it wasn't _dark, _exactly. There were plenty of streetlights. And she wasn't really _worried _about walking through this part of Gotham. The area surrounding the university was always crowded with people, even late into the night. And, after all, she could defend herself – provided that she didn't have to go up against a gun. Or Nightwing. She had learned _that_ the hard way.

She stopped and held her hand out, and a snowflake fell into her gloved palm.

She sighed. Better hurry before the sidewalks became slippery.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Evening**

**December 11th**

Dick, on his motorcycle, stopped at a traffic light, and, through his helmet visor, looked around him. He, like Devon, was coming from the university. He had taken a final earlier in the day, and had just come from a study group for one of his last two final exams, which were both the next day. He was tired, but excited that the semester was almost over.

He saw a familiar silhouette ahead of him, on the sidewalk, and he frowned. It looked like...

Devon. What was she doing walking – in the dark – in the snow – through Gotham? He could think of safer things for her to do.

_She probably missed the bus and is walking home, genius, _he told himself.

The light changed, and he released the bike's throttle slowly. As he came up behind Devon, he pulled out of traffic and came to a halt at the curb, just ahead of her. He removed his helmet as she passed him.

"Hey, Devon. Walking home?"

She stopped and whirled, bewildered. "Dick. Hi. You – startled me." She shifted her backpack higher on her shoulder, remembering the last time that they had spoken, when she had confronted him about being Bruce Wayne's kid. And when she _hadn't _answered his question about their future together – whether they had one.

"Sorry." He smiled. "Miss the bus?"

"Yeah, last one of the night. I'm walking to the Odeon theaters to catch one there." She pointed at the bike he rode. "I didn't know you had a motorcycle."

He looked down at it. "Yeah. It's new. Fuel efficient. A breeze to park."

"It's – nice."

"Thanks. So – finished with your finals?"

She blinked a snowflake from her eyelashes, and tried not to notice how the snow made his black hair appear even blacker, and how she wanted to brush the accumulating snow from the shoulders of his leather jacket. Wow. The jacket made his shoulders appear _very _broad – and strong. _Stop it, Devon_! "Just finished the last one. Thank God. You've got two more, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I was just at a study group. And now I'm going to go home and – study some more."

"Lucky you."

"Well, don't cry too much for me. At least I didn't have _five_ finals in two days."

"Yeah. True." She smiled at him, and he had to control his impulse to get off his bike and kiss her. With a stocking cap pulled down almost to her eyes and her nose red, she looked endearingly – fragile. He wanted to touch her face and brush the snowflakes from her cheeks, and pull her slowly to him...

But, right now, he _needed_ to clear the air with her. "Hey, look – uh, Devon. I wanted to apologize to you for – not telling you who I am. Not telling you about my dad, at least."

She shook her head. "You don't have to apologize. I get it. After I hung up with you, I was – kind of – ashamed for getting so mad. It was your secret and your _right _to keep it, and I – understand why."

He felt a a weightiness slide from him. "Thanks."

She smiled at him, but was silent.

"Can I – give you a ride home?" He asked hopefully.

She looked at the street she had been walking, gauging the distance remaining. "Nah. That's okay."

"Dying to walk through the snow, are you?"

She was not, in fact, dying to walk through the snow. "Are you going that way?"

"Actually, yes, I am." He handed her his helmet. "Ever been on the back of a bike before?"

She reached out with a tentative hand. "N – no. Not really. It looks – fast."

He gave a lopsided grin. "Oh, it is. Top speed is over two hundred miles an hour."

She handed the helmet back to him. "I'll walk."

He laughed. "I didn't say I'd _drive _two hundred miles an hour. I'll drive within the speed limit – mostly."

Her eyes widened, and he laughed again.

"I promise that I won't kill you."

"You know, I have to say that that does _not _inspire confidence in me."

He crossed his heart. "I promise that I'll get you home safe and sound." He held the helmet out again.

"Don't you have another helmet?"

He shook his head. "I really don't need one. I just wear it as a fashion statement." He watched as she put it on. "Besides," he grinned cheekily, "I promised that I'd be _very_ cautious, didn't I?"

She stilled for a moment, as a memory assailed her, although she could not place it. It was as if she had heard similar words from him before. She shook her head, trying to clear the _deja vu_, and lifted the visor to look at him. "Is this on right?"

His smile widened. She looked adorable, and he _really _wanted to kiss her. Subduing that desire, he stepped close to her. "It needs to be tighter."

He adjusted the chin straps, and she was given an opportunity to look closely at him. His eyes were the most remarkable shade of blue – the blue of a cornflower.

Noticing her scrutiny, he smiled at her, but his expression turned suddenly somber as the moment stretched into something more. He cleared his throat and stepped back. "There. How does it feel?"

She nodded, speechless.

He cleared his throat again. "Uh. Ready to – go?"

She nodded again, and he stepped around her, and, taking one arm, slid it through the strap of her backpack, settling the bag securely on her back.

"There." He smiled. "You'll be more balanced now."

He mounted the motorcycle, and held out his hand. "Hop on."

She took it, and straddled the saddle behind him with uncertainty. "What do I hold onto?"

At that, he grinned again. "Me."

He applied the accelerator and they took off, and Devon gave a yelp and clutched Dick tightly around his torso. Fearful despite her rational knowledge that he was surely a safe driver, and that _millions _of people rode motorcycles every day and survived, she laid her head, in the helmet, against his back, and squeezed her eyes shut.

She breathed in deeply, trying to quell the anxiety. The smell of what must be Dick's soap or shampoo permeated the helmet. It was a pleasant, masculine smell, somehow familiar to her.

Very familiar.

When had she smelled that before? And where?

She knew the scent – somehow.

When the answer came to her, her eyes shot open.

_Nightwing_! That was _his_ scent. Although he frequently came to her sweaty after battle, she smelled it in his hair every night. She had smelled it a hundred times.

How was it that Dick and Nightwing used the same shampoo?

_Huh_. She thought to herself. _That's weird_. _They use the same soap, they both have black hair, they're about the same height – aren't they? Hey, I have a type!_

Another thought came to her. A shocking, disturbing thought. A thought that made her momentarily lose her grip on the man she was pressed against. What if – Dick was Nightwing? _No_. _No_, she told herself shakily. _Dick's not __Nightwing_. _He is __**not**_. _He can't be_! _I can't be sleeping with Dick Grayson! Who might also be Nightwing! I might be shooting at Dick Grayson! Oh my God, am I sleeping with Dick Grayson?_

Oh. It was getting worse and worse.

She thought back over her nights with Nightwing, trying to reconcile her lover to the man who sat in front of her. No. It was – impossible. If he were Nightwing, that meant that he had been _lying _to her for – months. No. Dick wouldn't do that! _Would _he?

She then thought back, frantically, over _every _encounter with Dick. Every word, every touch. Her _one _date with him. The one date – on the same night that she had first slept with Nightwing.

_Crap._

Everything between her and Dick and between her and Nightwing started to take on ominous tones.

_No_! She stopped herself. _He is **not** Nightwing_.

Was he?

How could she find out the truth? How could she be _sure_? Ask him?

_Right, because he's going to come **right **out and tell you that he's Nightwing. He wouldn't even tell you who his father is!_

But what if he _wasn't _Nightwing? She would look like an _idiot_. And she might have to confess that her interest in Nightwing was not strictly from curiosity.

But _how_ could she find out the truth otherwise?

She thought on it. Well, she would know – for certain – if Dick took his clothes off. Nightwing's body was very – impressive.

_And how are you going to accomplish **that**_?

She sighed.

She wasn't going to sleep with him just to see him naked. Unless she already had.

Shit.

_Think, Devon, think! _

Short of sleeping with him, how could she make sure that he was – or wasn't – Nightwing?

A scar! She could identify Nightwing by his scars! She certainly had spent enough time touching them, running her fingers over them reverently, and caressing them with her lips. Oh, yes, he had tons of scars – including a long, puckered horizontal scar that ran from his navel and out about three inches on his right side.

Her arms still clutching Dick around his torso, she flattened her hands against his abdomen, and ran them down until she encountered the top of his jeans. He jerked when she pulled the front of his jacket and shirt up and exposed his skin to her questing fingers. She ran her fingertips over the hair that dove down from his navel, and ran them up and around to the area in question.

She felt a long, rough scar there, and she hissed through her teeth.

_Bastard_!

What kind of game was he playing with her?

Unwilling to tip him off to the fact that her intent had been to search for the scar, she continued to stroke his abdomen, hoping that he would think she was merely being forward with him.

Dick, for his part, had been startled when she started exploring him. A part of him hoped that she would unbutton his pants and reach inside, and another part of him realized that that would make him crash. So, when she began to stroke his stomach, he tightened it self-consciously, even while his erection was growing.

Her gentle fingers became sharp as she dug her nails into him, and he had to admit to himself that he was getting more turned on than he should get while driving a motorcycle.

Another part of him wondered why Devon was suddenly making a pass at Dick Grayson, but he ignored that part of him.

They came to a wobbly stop in the alley behind the diner, and she removed her hands from her exploration reluctantly. Dick Grayson might be a lying bastard, but heaven help her, he was still divinely sexy, and she still wanted him desperately.

She climbed from the bike and he followed, albeit, thanks to the state of his nether regions, a bit more slowly. She removed the helmet and handed it to him. There was one more thing that would prove his identity to her.

"Thanks." She said, her gaze intense, her eyes on him as he placed the helmet on the saddle.

He nodded, unsure of what to say. "You're very wel–"

She interrupted him by grabbing him by the lapels and jerking him towards her, her mouth finding his. Her lips moved aggressively on his while he stood there, startled, until his hands lifted to her waist, his mouth opened, and he tried to deepen the kiss.

She pulled away then, stepped back, and, without a backwards look or another word, disappeared through the door, leaving him looking after her in bewilderment.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Ha! So now the fat's in the fire! Devon has discovered the truth! Let's see what she does with THAT nugget of knowledge! I thought of this scenario when I first conceived the story, about a year ago, since my husband has used the same shampoo for YEARS, and I would recognize the scent anywhere. SO I decided that Devon would also recognize something as familiar as the smell of Nightwing. HOWEVER, I was MIFFED when Scott Snyder actually had the Joker, in "Death of the Family," refer to being able to identify Dick Grayson by his brand of soap/shampoo circa November of last year. Great minds think alike, I guess! ; )

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. PLEASE review - and come back next week to see how Devon is going to handle this information!


	46. Chapter 46

**Gotham City**

**That Evening**

**December 11th **

"Bastard! Lying, stinking _bastard_!" Devon mumbled as she ascended the stairs to the apartment. "Son of a bitch!"

She slammed the door as she entered, and her grandmother peeked her head out of the kitchen. "You're so late! I was worried!"

Devon sighed heavily, trying to shake her bad mood for her grandmother's benefit. "Sorry, Gran. Last final ran late."

"Oh, well. You're home. All finished with tests?"

Devon realized that she had forgotten all about that, thanks to thoughts of her perfidious lover. Leave it to _Dick Grayson _to make her forget everything else, with his blue eyes and amazing body, and...

She shook her head to clear it. She would _not _be distracted by his obvious attributes. "Yeah, Grandma. All done for the semester."

"That's wonderful. You deserve a break."

Devon sighed. "Just being able to sit around in the evenings and do _nothing _will be good. And going to bed _early_." Especially since she probably _wouldn't _be getting anymore late-night visits.

Shit. She wouldn't be getting anymore late-night visits! Damn it! Damn him!

"_And_ you have a four-day weekend coming up at Christmas." Her grandmother continued.

Devon dragged herself back to the conversation. "Oh, yeah – I forgot about that. I'm going to go to bed early _and _sleep late those days."

"Good for you. Ready for dinner?"

Devon looked at the food on the stove, her appetite gone. Just looking at the food made her feel vaguely nauseous. Damn Dick Grayson for churning her emotions up so much that she had actually lost her appetite! "No, thanks, Grandma. I think I'm just going to take a shower and hit the hay. I'm really tired."

Her grandmother looked concerned. "Are you feeling okay?"

Devon nodded. "Just – all that worry over the finals, and – now it's over, and," she shrugged. "I don't know. I just – need to sleep."

_Alone_.

"All right, dear." Her grandmother smiled kindly. "I'll put the food on a plate. If you get hungry later, you can warm it in the microwave."

"Thanks." Devon gave her a distracted kiss, and, after tossing her backpack on the floor, headed for the shower. Showers were always a good place to think.

And she _really _needed to think.

As the water cascaded over her, she reviewed, in her mind, everything that she had learned, and, with clarity, all the pieces of the Nightwing puzzle started to fall into place.

She should have known. She felt so – _stupid_! How could she _not _have known?! In hindsight, it all seemed so – obvious. Their physical similarities. Well, of course _they _were similar. They were both _him_.

How could she not have _seen _it? Their hair color. Their build. Their height.

And the same _goofy _sense of humor.

And how Nightwing's voice seemed to change sometimes, when he wasn't paying attention.

And all the _little _things that he had said that sounded familiar. All the things that he seemed to know about her – the time she awoke every morning, her college major. Things that she had dismissed - clues that she had missed.

Why _hadn't _she figured it out? All the talk of Batman, who he called 'his father.' His _father_...

_Bruce Wayne was Batman_.

The thought staggered her. Bruce Wayne was _Batman_. She knew who Batman was.

_She knew who Batman was_.

What would Larry do to find out _that_ piece of information?

_Anything, Devon. He would do **anything **to find out Batman's true identity. _She told herself.

Would he – would his employers – forgive her the debts that she owed for that information?

Undoubtedly.

_Damn him_! Damn Dick for putting this choice in front of her!

But she couldn't do it. It was out of the question. It was _unthinkable_. She could not betray Dick in that manner. She could not betray Batman, the man who had saved countless lives, who stood – sometimes alone – against the forces of evil in Gotham.

She could not. She _would _not.

Wait. Did Larry already _know_? After all, she had had that mission to Wayne Enterprises. He _must _know the connection between Batman and Bruce Wayne.

But what about that night that she had tased Nightwing? He had demanded, via text, that she unmask Nightwing, to discover his identity. There was _no _way that he knew Batman's identity but _not _Nightwing's. That would be almost impossible. Anyone who knew that Bruce Wayne was Batman would guess that Dick Grayson was Nightwing.

Perhaps Larry's employers knew – but hadn't shared that information with him? That seemed – unlikely. Unlikely – but possible.

She thought on all the clues that she had been inadvertently provided. The information about Dick's brothers – they were _obviously _the Robins that he had mentioned. The brainy one was Red Robin – Tim Drake. She remembered his name from the internet article that she had read. And the precocious youngest was probably Robin, Batman's _current _sidekick. Damian Wayne.

That was who he had been trying to protect. A ten-year old boy, a college freshman, and the man who had taken him in.

Wow. What a week for revelations about Dick Grayson and the Wayne family.

But all that knowledge didn't make her any less angry at Dick.

He had _lied _to her. Every single day – every single time that she had seen him – or Nightwing – _he _had lied to her. He had made a fool of her.

She had rejected Dick. She had told him that she could not get involved with him, so he had circumvented that objection by coming to her, by making her _love him,_ through subterfuge.

Oh, how he must have _laughed _at her when she told him – Dick – not to come back to the diner. How he must have snickered when she had become jealous of Barbara Gordon.

Had _they _laughed at her together?

The thought was stultifying. Had they chuckled over stupid, foolish Devon, who had not even known the man who she was more intimately acquainted with than any other?

She slammed her palm against the tile of the bathroom, and was rewarded with a shooting pain all the way up her arm.

Good. She _wanted _to feel pain. She wanted to connect her pain over Nightwing's betrayal with some physical pain.

Damn him! Damn him! Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!

Why had he done this to her? Why?

She blushed now at the things that she had told him – God, she was _so _stupid! Fantasizing that he would come into the diner, and _certain_ that she would recognize him. He _had_ been in the diner – and she had _never _recognized him.

And it was no wonder that she had felt a desire for Dick, even after she had started sleeping with Nightwing. It was because he _was _Nightwing!

How could she have been so _stupid_? There was really no other word for it – unless she thought of the words idiotic, foolish, moronic, naïve, or gullible.

And all of the times that Dick had come into the diner – even after they had become involved – and he had seemed so _nice _and caring – and all he had actually cared about was – sex!

_Well, wasn't that what you wanted from him_? She asked herself.

Yes, but she had fallen in love with Nightwing, and she had been beginning to think that he felt the same for her.

And he didn't. It was all a joke.

She thought back to the first time that he had come into the diner after she had met Nightwing, and remembered him being surprised and interested in the superhero, and exclaiming over her meeting him.

But now she knew it all to be a ruse. And Wally – oh, _God_, of course! He was Kid Flash! Kid Flash must _know _ Nightwing's identity!

God, she was an idiot! She had not even connected the dots! Kid Flash was a friend of Robin's – she knew that – but, although she had not known, prior to meeting Dick, that the original Robin had become Nightwing, she _knew _the connection between the speedster and Batman's sidekick!

And Wally and Dick had acted innocent and _impressed_, and...

And _that _was how Wally had known where she lived and that she was dating someone other than Dick!

Because _Nightwing_ - because_ Dick, _had told him.

She was an idiot.

And Wally _obviously _knew that she was sleeping with Nightwing – with Dick – which would explain the odd comments that he had made to her on the bus the time that she had encountered him.

And it would also explain how Dick had known that she was seeing someone else – because she was seeing him, as his alter ego. And she had admonished Dick for – what? _Watching _her? What a joke! He had known not because he was watching her, but because he _was _the guy she was seeing.

It all continued to fall into place. Things that he had said. His background as a circus acrobat – those tied into his abilities as Nightwing.

God! She wanted to _kill _him. At that moment, she would have _definitely, _happily smacked him!

Several times. Yes, _that _would be satisfying.

And kick him out of bed. _That _would be _very _satisfying.

_You know, Devon_, her inner voice said, _**you**__are being a little hypocritical. You've been shooting at him off and on for a month now. Wouldn't you call that a little bit of a betrayal? Making love to him one night and shooting at him the next_?

She refused to think on that. She was _livid _with Dick, and she would remain so.

He had _tricked _her, and _lied _to her, and made her feel like a _fool_, and she was never, ever, ever going to forgive him.

Ever.

* * *

She finally climbed from the shower, and, after drying herself and donning her pajamas, she dragged herself to her bedroom. She glared at the window, as if that opening were responsible for her treacherous boyfriend. Her treacherous, irresistible boyfriend.

She walked over and slammed the window shut, with excessive force, and closed the curtains.

She was not opening it again tonight.

She flounced over to her bed and threw herself onto it, causing the springs to groan in protest. "Don't bother squeaking. There won't be any fun tonight."

She turned on her side and curled into a ball.

She was _angry _and _hurt _and – miserable. _Why_ had Dick lied to her?

_Well, maybe because you refused to see him_.

"Oh, yeah. _That's _a reason to lie to me." She retorted to no one. "Because I _rejected _him."

She didn't want to be this furious – but he had _lied_ to her! She had told Dick that she didn't want to see him, and he had _ignored _her decision, and had come to her under the guise of another identity.

She could not absolve herself of blame, though. She had _willingly –_ _very _willingly – become involved with him, as Nightwing.

_But would you have gotten involved with Nightwing if you had known his true identity?_ She asked herself.

_I don't know_. She answered herself truthfully. She had not wanted to get involved with Dick because she was so _deeply _involved in Larry's plans, but then she had gone ahead and gotten herself entangled with Nightwing, who happened to be at the heart of her false uncle's plans, which seemed, in hindsight, to be a _very _stupid idea on her part.

Very, very stupid.

And, now, she wasn't sure what to do. Should she confront him, or wait for him to confess? Or ignore it all completely and go on as if nothing had happened?

Oh, no. There was _no _way she could ignore it.

Anyway, he would have to confess now, wouldn't he, since he, as Dick, had kissed her? Wouldn't he? _Wouldn't _he?

Maybe not.

Maybe she _should _confront him. But, should she confront him as Dick or as Nightwing?

Well, if she confronted him as Dick, she could see his reaction. But she would probably see him in public, and she couldn't just march up to him and slap his face and accuse him of being Nightwing in front of other people. If she confronted him as Nightwing, it would probably be here, in this room. It was her turf, it was true, but her grandmother would be near enough to hear yelling. And there was sure to be yelling. On her part, at least.

She sighed. Maybe she should just wing it.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Earlier That Evening**

**December 11th**

Dick stood, dumbfounded, for a long moment after Devon had slammed the door to her apartment, his hands still raised as if he were holding Devon's hips.

He realized what he was doing, and dropped his arms with alacrity.

What the _hell _had just happened? She had _fondled _him on the motorcycle and then she had _kissed _him! What was going on? She was cheating on Nightwing – with Dick Grayson!

Incongruously, he heard Jason's voice in his head. _Both you, Dickieboy_.

Dick shoved the helmet on his head, climbed back onto his motorcycle, and, with a sudden burst of fury, gunned the engine. He hoped that she heard it, and he hoped that she knew that he was angry.

_Wait. Why **exactly** are you angry? _He asked himself as he slid around the corner.

_Because she's cheating on me...with me._

Wait. What?

Shit.

He was tired of everything being so confusing.

_What is your problem, then? You **wanted **to stop being Nightwing with her. This is the **perfect **excuse._

Except that it wasn't, because the reasons why he had hidden his identity were still valid, and named Bruce. And Damian. And Tim. And Wally. And Artemis. And so on.

He couldn't tell her without endangering everyone that he loved. Everyone who depended on him for secrecy.

He had never realized how much easier it was to be involved with a girl in the "life," like Barbara or Zatanna – someone from whom he did not need to keep his identity secret.

Crap. This _sucked_.

He gunned the engine again, and took the road to the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge over Gotham Bay that led to the Bristol neighborhood, and to the manor.

By the time he arrived at the manor, he was angry and disappointed. Why he should feel either emotion mystified him, but he did.

The gates slid open to allow him entry to the grounds, and Titus came bounding up to the driveway, barking heartily.

Dick avoided the dog and drove into the garage as the door opened. The Great Dane came up to Dick and shoved his head against his leg, and Dick leaned down to rub the dog's head.

"What's up, boy? You're not shut out of the house, are you?"

The dog panted almost good-naturedly, and Dick gave a grim smile and removed his helmet. He climbed off wearily, and, followed by Titus, walked up the steps to the kitchen door.

Cooking aromas still filled the air, and Alfred sat at the counter, piles of papers surrounding him. "Ah, good evening, Master Richard."

Dick put aside his bad mood, and smiled at the manservant. "Smells good, Alfred. Anything left?"

"Of course. I would be remiss if I did not save a meal for you." Alfred smiled. "Chicken cordon bleu and portobello risotto, along with freshly steamed broccoli." Alfred rose. "Which I will freshly steam right now."

Dick smiled again, and sat down gratefully at the counter. "Alfred, you are a jewel among men."

"Effusive praise, indeed, Sir." Alfred opened the refrigerator to fetch Dick's dinner. "How was your final exam – if you don't mind my asking?"

Dick shrugged. "I think that it went well. It was what happened _afterward _that has me a little bummed."

"I hope that you did not have a fender bender, Sir."

"Actually, an accident would have been preferable."

Alfred's brows shot up. "Whatever it was, it must have been _quite _traumatic to prompt that response in you."

"Girl troubles, Alfie."

"Again, Sir?"

"I seem to be cursed with them."

"Hmm. I see. Dissonance with your young lady?"

Dick shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe. She – _kissed _me."

"That does not _sound _like dissonance."

"Well, she kissed _Dick_."

"I'm afraid I don't follow. A _kiss _is a good thing, usually."

Dick looked at Alfred for a long while, then shook his head again. "Never mind. I'm being – ridiculous. I guess I'm just kind of – wound up from finals. And I have _two _tomorrow."

"Shall I bring your meal up to you on a tray so that you might start – _cramming_, Sir?"

Dick gave a deep sigh. "You know what? That _would _be nice, Alfred. I'd appreciate that very much. Thank you."

Alfred smiled and gave a nod. "I do aim to please, Master Dick."

Dick got up. "Bruce and Dami home?"

"I believe so, Sir. They are belowstairs. Shall you be going down to see them?"

Dick shook his head. "Not tonight. Too much to do."

He climbed the stairs wearily, and, after a quick shower, sat down at his desk to study.

Alfred came up not long after he had settled down, and, so, he was interrupted by his dinner.

"It looks great, Alfie! And smells _amazing!_ You want to sit down?"

Alfred gave him a sage look. "Thank you, Master Dick, but I think not. I do not want to disturb your studying."

"Oh, you wouldn't be." Dick assured the man servant.

Alfred smiled slightly, and shook his head. "You _must _study, Master Dick. I _know _that you are weary from school, not to mention your late nights patrolling – and, of course, you are heartsick over your young lady – although I still do _not _understand what happened – goodness, I _am _rambling!" He sighed. "You are very close to the end of the semester. Just one or two more nights, and you shall have a long respite."

Dick nodded. Alfred was right. He just had to persevere for _two_ more nights, and then he could give _all _of his attention to _whatever _was going on with Devon.

"You're right. Thanks, Alfred. That – helped."

Alfred gave a wider smile, and nodded his head firmly. "That is what I am here for, Master Dick."

After Alfred left, Dick finished his meal quickly and tried to get into his studying. However, the incident with Devon was still ferociously nagging at him.

He looked at his phone, sitting on the desk next to him, and it seemed to beckon him.

He finally picked it up, and pulled up Devon's contact. Maybe he should call her, and just ask her _why_ she had kissed him. Had she changed her mind about dating him? Was that just her _odd _way of thanking him for a ride?

But, no. He _couldn't _call her. _That _would be awkward.

He could, however, text her.

Without allowing himself to have second thoughts, he typed the text.

_Should we talk_?

The response took less than a minute.

_**Do you think we should?**_

Shit. That was no answer.

_That's why I'm asking you._

He realized that that was not _really _an answer, either.

_**Yes. We should.**_

He let out a breath that he had not known he had been holding.

_I have finals tomorrow and a program due by midnight Thursday. Can we meet Friday afternoon?_

There was only a relatively short delay until he received an answer.

_**Come to the diner when it closes, at 2.**_

Dick smiled. Maybe this was the start of something. A start of something between Dick and Devon. Something – normal.

_It's a date_.

There was no reply, and, although Dick was a bit concerned about that, he decided that he had ended the conversation, and that there was probably no problem.

No problem at all.

He hoped.

* * *

Devon was lying on the bed, deep in thought on the conundrum of Dick Grayson, when the text alert on her phone sounded.

She reached for it, hoping that it was not Larry, and, although she got her wish, the sender was nearly as dismaying, and the person most prominent in her thoughts.

_**Should we talk?**_

She almost could not believe her eyes.

"Should we talk? _Should we talk_?" She demanded of him, although he could not, of course, hear her. "Of course we should, you _idiot_!"

She could not believe that he was asking her that, and sent back a curt reply.

_Do you think we should?_

His response, when it came, infuriated her.

_**That's why I'm asking you.**_

"You are the most – _maddening _man!" She was aware that she was talking to someone who was not in the room with her, but she was beyond caring. "Do you _really _not _know_ that we should talk?"

She wanted to text him those very words, but restrained herself.

_Yes, we should. _She nearly added, "you ass!" but, again, controlled her temper.

_**I have finals tomorrow and a program due by midnight Thursday. Can we meet Friday afternoon?**_

Well, Nightwing would _obviously _not be visiting her for the next two nights. She had two nights to work up her righteous indignation.

_Come to the diner when it closes, at 2. _She would take him away from the diner and read him the riot act, away from prying eyes.

_**It's a date.**_

"No, _dick_, it is most definitely _not _a date. _Dick_."

She turned her phone off and slammed it down on the table next to her bed. She was _not _going to respond.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Morning**

**December 12th **

Dick scratched his belly as he walked barefoot down the stairs of the manor. He had stayed up late studying the night before, and, as a result, had awakened late.

He had a few hours before his first final, so he was planning on eating some breakfast and doing a bit more studying before heading for campus.

The kitchen was empty, so he grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat down at the counter. He had barely begun eating when Bruce entered the room with a coffee cup.

"Morning, Dick."

Dick waved at him as he chewed his cornflakes.

"Took the week off from Wayne for finals?"

Dick nodded.

"All ready for your tests?" Bruce asked as he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee.

Dick gave him a thumbs up, and finally swallowed. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"I'll take that to mean that you're well-prepared."

Dick nodded. "Okay."

Bruce gave him an exasperated look, and perched on a stool across from his son. "So, have you given any thought to what you'll be doing during winter break?"

Dick quelled a feeling of alarm. "No. But I have a feeling you have."

"I've been thinking about it."

"Does any of it include flying to some warm, tropical region where I can wear Speedo's and sip tasty, frozen drinks?"

"Not at all."

Dick allowed his face to appear crestfallen. "I didn't think so." He shrugged. "I don't like Speedo's anyway. What _did _you have in mind?"

"You expanding your work week at Wayne Enterprises."

Dick gave a look of dismay. "Five days a week?"

"Half days. You'll be paid, if that's what you're worried about."

Dick gave an aggravated sigh. "Bruce, I don't _care_ about the money. I have more than enough for the rest of my life – thanks to you."

They stared at each other for a long moment, until Dick looked away. He didn't really want to work every day at Wayne Enterprises. He wanted to sleep late and hang out with Wally and Kaldur and Conner and Roy, and he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Devon – as Dick or Nightwing, and, if he was working _every day_, he wouldn't be able to do all of that.

But he knew that Bruce was merely concerned for his welfare, and with trying to help Dick build a life after Nightwing.

Dick gave another sigh. "It's a good idea. I'll – I'll do it."

"Thank you, Dick."

Dick nodded. "Have you set a – date, yet?"

"For what?"

Dick rolled his eyes. "For the end of the world!" At Buce's astonished look, he qualified. "The end of Batman's world, I mean."

"Oh." Bruce took a sip of coffee.

"So?" Dick asked.

"So what?"

Dick felt like Bruce was being deliberately obtuse. "So – have you set a date?"

Bruce stood. "The fourth of July."

"Oh." Dick was surprised that Bruce had, indeed, set a date. "That's – interesting."

"It's also your anniversary."

"The date that we first formed the Team."

"Yes. It will be another _Independence _day – this time, it will be independence from being Nightwing."

Dick gave a deep sigh. "Yeah. Liberation – for all of us."

"Is that how you feel – now? Liberated?"

"I don't know. No, not really." He shrugged. "It depends on when you ask. Right now, I - don't want to quit. But I don't know what I'll say in a week."

A ghost of a smile passed over Bruce's face. "I won't ask you next week, then."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Morning**

**December 12th**

"_Another _steak and eggs, George. _Rare_. Yuck." Devon slapped the order sheet onto the pass window. "What _is _it with _rare _steak today? We can go _weeks _without one damn order for _rare_ steak and eggs, and today we have _three_."

"What's wrong with steak and eggs?" The cook asked as he peered at the sheet.

"_Rare _steak and eggs?" She gave a shiver. "Gross. The _blood _all over the plate, getting on the eggs and the hash browns – and the _toast_. Nasty. Who would order something so _disgusting_?"

"Shhh! Don't say that! This is a _restaurant_! We don't use the words _gross _or _disgusting_."

"Ugh." She rolled her eyes.

"I guess I should have asked is what is _wrong _with you today?"

She couldn't tell George that her problem was about six foot one, with black hair, blue eyes, and the most incredible, biteable ass in the world.

She shrugged. "Just still tired from finals."

"Well, at least school is over for now, right?"

"Yep. I have almost an entire _glorious _month of doing _nothing _after work."

George gave a firm nod. "Good for you. Here's the French toast for the counter – with two sunny side up eggs."

She took the plate and and gave it to the gentleman at the counter, and, with a strained smile, poured him another cup of coffee.

She was _so _tired – as tired as she had been while school was in session. But, what did she expect? It was only the first day of her vacation, after all. It would take until the beginning of next week, at least, to have recovered enough sleep to feel human again. Maybe she would take a nap this afternoon. And it didn't help that her sleep, the night before, had been restless and disturbed.

"Miss? Do you have more sugar packets?" The man at the counter prompted.

"What?" She drew herself back to the present. "Oh, yeah. Of course. Let me get those for you."

As she pulled several from beneath the counter and set them in front of the patron, she saw, from the corner of her eye, someone seat themselves a few stools away.

She stood with a smile, ready to ask the newcomer if he needed a menu.

Her face drained of color when she saw who sat before her.

She stared at him silently for several long seconds, blinking rapidly.

"Can I see a menu?" Larry asked, an insincere smile on his face.

"Uh, yeah. Of course." She pulled a menu from behind the counter and handed it to him.

"So. What's good here?" He pierced her with a steely look.

"Uh. Depends on what you like." What was _he _doing there? He promised to never, ever, ever show up at the diner during working hours.

"Huh." His eyes scanned the pages. "What am I in the mood for?"

"Th – the pancakes are good." She didn't know what he wanted, but she wanted to be certain that he got whatever it was and _left_.

"Nah. Not in the mood. How about you?" He looked directly at her. "What are you in the mood for?"

She shook her head. "I – I'm not hungry."

He gave a small, cynical smile. "Can't really eat while you're working, I suppose."

She shook her head.

"Well, good thing you only work in the mornings."

What was he getting at? "I guess." She said woodenly.

"I understand that you _had _a night job."

"H – had?" What was he saying? That she no longer had to work for him? That she was _free_? Hope blossomed inside her.

"You weren't able to finish your last assignment. Had your _grandma _make excuses for you."

Whatever color remained in her skin drained away, and the hope died as it was being born. "S – she told me that she had made it right."

"She _got you out of it_. She didn't make it _right_." He snarled.

"Wh – what does that mean?" She was ashamed of herself for quailing in front of him.

"It means that you have a _lot _to do to make up for your failure, little girl."

Although a coldness washed over her, his words renewed her confidence, and her face became stone. He would _not _intimidate her. She might be indebted to him, and she might even be scared of him, but she would _not _let herself show it. "Whatever you say, _boss_."

A self-satisfied smile came over his face. "Damn straight."

She bared her teeth in a parody of a smile. "Have you decided what you'll have?"

He handed her his menu. "Steak and eggs, and make the steak rare."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. PLEASE review, and let me know that you liked it - or hated it. Actually, if you hated it, just PM me. : )


	47. Chapter 47

**Author's Notes: ** Well, here we are! Devon has founf out the truth about Dick, but the question is: what will be her next step? I guess you will have to keep reading to find out!

Thanks to sunflower13 for her betareading!

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Late That Afternoon**

**December 12th**

"Yes! Yes! Thank you, God!" Dick pumped a fist in the air outside the classroom building where he had just finished his last final. He still had the computer program to finish, but he was already _almost _done with that, and he knew that he would have it ready before the deadline of midnight the next night.

He felt _free_. Freer than he had felt in _weeks_. In months, maybe. He could sleep late; no wait. He couldn't. He was going to start working at Wayne Enterprises five days a week. Oh, well. At least his nights were his own – except for his duties as Nightwing.

Well, anyway, he didn't have to study or do homework for a _month_! That was cause for celebration! He was going to go home and finish his program and then, the next night, he was going to get dressed in his uniform and go see Devon and celebrate _properly_. Even though he couldn't tell her _why _they were celebrating, and even though he still didn't know why she had kissed him the day before when he was _Dick_. It didn't matter anymore. As long as he could be with her, and feel her surround him.

It didn't matter at all.

* * *

Dick walked into the manor, whistling, and the first person that he saw, running down the main staircase, was Damian. The younger boy was clutching a box in both hands, and he ripped past Dick.

"Whoa! Where you going, Baby Bird?" Dick called after him.

"My project for Father is done! I'm going to show him!" He skidded to a stop, and looked at Dick with wide eyes. "Do you want to see it, too?"

A giant smile split Dick's face. His program could wait. "Hell, yeah!" He dropped his backpack and walked to Damian, who was grinning with delight.

"Really?"

"Damian, what would make you think that I _wouldn't _want to see it? You're my brother, and you've been working on this for _weeks_. Of course I want to see it!"

Damian gave a firm nod, and led the way to the BatCave.

Bruce was already there, fiddling with one of the Batsuits, which laid out on a table, and Alfred was assisting him.

Damian scurried over to a workbench and put his box on it. "It's not quite ready. I have to – check something."

Dick nodded, and walked over to his father. "Hey, Pops! Alfie."

Bruce gave Dick a startled look, but Alfred smiled. "Master Dick. You're home in time for dinner."

"I know!" Dick grinned. "What are we having?"

"Steak with roasted Brussels sprouts and garlic mashed potatoes."

"Sounds delicious!" He turned to his father. "Whatcha doing?"

"There's something wrong with the sensors that monitor my vitals."

"Ah."

"How were your finals?" His father asked.

Dick nodded with a smile. "Good. They went – well. I think. I hope."

"I'm glad."

If Dick was expecting any further words of encouragement or approbation, he was doomed to disappointment. Bruce looked up at Dick belatedly, and his son gave him a small smile, to which Bruce responded with a slight nod.

"I'm ready now." Damian drew their attention, and Dick turned to him gratefully.

The youngest Wayne pulled an oversized grenade out of the box with a flourish. The spectators each took a step back.

Dick was the first to state the obvious. "It's a – grenade. A _big _grenade."

"Tt. It is _not _simply a grenade."

Bruce, his body lines wary, approached with caution. "Please tell me it's not live."

Damian looked up at his father with shining eyes. "It _is_ live."

Bruce's face became mottled. "Damian." His voice was low and threatening. "Of all the _irresponsible _things for you to do...you brought a _live _grenade down here?!"

Damian's face took on an expression of understanding. "No, Father! It doesn't have _explosives _in it."

"Then what is it?"

"It's a _stun _grenade."

"A stun grenade?" Bruce's brows drew down.

Damian nodded eagerly. "Yes."

Dick and Alfred exchanged meaningful looks.

"How does it work?" Dick asked.

Damian looked pleased to be asked. "It functions much as any grenade would, but, instead of a _pin_, it has a switch." He pointed to a red button at the top of the grenade. "You push the button, throw the grenade, and, when it lands, it deploys a strong electrical current out of _six _different ports – on each side. It has a sensor in it that can tell through which side of the grenade the electricity should discharge – the side that's facing up, _obviously_ – and the current shoots up and out and finds the closest grounding."

"Which should, theoretically, be whomever is standing closest." Dick supplied helpfully.

"Exactly."

Bruce stood blinking at his youngest son. "It's – ingenious."

Damian beamed. "I got the idea from Nightwing – when he was tased. I modified the Wayne Enterprises nano-pulse technology."

"I'm glad you benefited from my pain." Dick said dryly.

"If it works, Master Damian, it would be a wonderful non-lethal weapon." Alfred interjected.

"Would you like to see it in action, Father?" Damian asked eagerly.

Bruce, his hands in his pockets, shrugged. "I don't see why not."

Damian almost jumped in his glee. "Thank you, Father!" He calmed immediately. "You should all put on safety goggles and stand a good distance away."

"So should _you_." Bruce told him, and Damian nodded.

They did as Damian bade, and crowded to one end of the Batcave. Damian had set up a far off test area with several crates and some martial arts mannequins as victims.

He looked at his father. "Ready?"

Bruce nodded solemnly. "Whenever you are."

Damian nodded, as well, as if to convince himself.

"Good luck." Dick laid a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder.

He gave Dick a disgusted look. "I won't _need _luck, Grayson. I have tested this _several _times." He looked at his audience. "Once I push the button, I will have _seven _seconds to throw it into position."

He pushed the button and tossed it, with sure aim, into the middle of the test site. It landed, and then, almost immediately, there was a sizzle, and a blindingly bright flash of light filled the room.

All four occupants of the cave staggered back, their hands to their eyes.

"Shit!" Dick gave voice to his surprise, and turned away.

He could see nothing in front of him but blackness, and he pulled the goggles from his face.

"Bruce!" He called, blinded. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. So is Damian. Can you locate Alfred?"

"I'm here, Sir." Dick could hear Alfred's voice to the right of him, and he stumbled towards it.

"Stay where you are, Alfie. I'm coming to you." He lurched into the butler, nearly knocking them both down.

"Father! I'm sorry! I don't know what went wrong!" Damian's voice, demoralized and disheartened, pleaded with his father.

"Not now, Damian." Bruce admonished. "Dick, can you see?"

"Not yet. I'm sure I'll be fine in a second. Can you?"

"No."

"Dami, can you see?"

Damian was silent, and Dick took that as a 'no.'

"Is anyone hurt?" Bruce asked.

"I'm quite well, Sir, except for the blindness." Alfred assured his employer.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Damian sounded close to tears, and Dick staggered over to his him, using the younger boy's voice to guide him.

He found him and took his younger brother's shoulders in his hands. "Damian, it's okay. Everyone makes mistakes."

"But I've blinded _everyone_."

"No. My vision – I think it's coming back." Dick was not lying; the blackness had started to retreat slightly.

"Dick, stay with them. I'm going to –" Bruce trailed off.

"To what?" Dick asked.

"I have _no _idea. Maybe I'll just stand here until my vision comes back."

"Oh, no! I've blinded _Batman_!" Damian wailed.

"No, you haven't." Dick scoffed. "He'll be fine. I'll bet his vision is coming back right now. Isn't it, Bruce?" He tried to send a signal to his father through the inflection in his words.

"What? Oh. Yes. It seems to be returning. Alfred, find a chair to sit in until this passes."

"Oh, dear. Yes, I think that I should." Dick could hear Alfred's feet scuttle across the floor.

"It'll be all right, Baby Bird." Dick could start to see shapes again. "My vision's coming back. How about yours?"

He could actually see Damian's silhouette nod, and he impulsively pulled his brother into his arms. "See? We're going to be fine. Bruce?"

"I think I'm starting to see light."

Dick began to chuckle, and Damian pulled away.

"This is _not _funny." Damian protested.

Dick tried to subdue his smile, even though he was certain that Damian couldn't see it yet. "I'm sorry, but, Dami - _please _warn me the next time you test a homemade flash grenade."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**The Next Night **

**December 13th **

"I'm done. I'm done. I'm done. I'm done. I'm done. I'm done. I'm done." Dick chanted the words merrily as he pressed the send button on the e-mail to his computer science professor. He had checked and double-checked the program that he had written, he had properly attached it to the e-mail, he had made sure that he had spelled his professor's e-mail address correctly, and he had watched with joy as it zipped off into cyberspace.

He clapped his hands enthusiastically several times, and jumped up from his desk. "I'm free! I'm free! I'm free for a month!" He danced around the room, waving his arms in the air.

"I knew that you'd crack one day, Grayson." Damian leaned on the door jamb of his brother's door.

"Ha! Ha!" Dick danced over and grabbed the younger boy's hands and attempted to jig with him. "I am finished with the worst semester of my _life_, and I am happy! Be happy with me, Baby Bird!"

Damian stood his ground, allowing only his arms to be manipulated. "I am _not _dancing with you. Under any circumstances."

Dick dropped Damian's hands without offense, and spun once. "Suit yourself. You'll never know the joy of the end of semester dance."

Damian shook his head and crossed his arms. "I think I'll survive."

Dick sashayed over to his laptop and shut it down. "I am going to get dressed now, crack some skulls downtown, and –"

"Go see your strumpet?"

Dick stopped dancing and looked at Damian quizzically. "You know, I'm not even sure what that means. But if you're talking about Devon, my _girlfriend, _then yes."

"_Please_. She's no more your girlfriend than _I _am."

"Damian, I'm not that kind of _boy_." Dick put a hand to his chest mockingly, shock on his face.

His brother reddened. "I _mean _that girlfriends _typically _are able to identify their boyfriends in a line-up."

"Wow. Those are bad boyfriends, if they're in a line-up."

"Grayson!" Damian stamped his foot. "You _know _what I mean."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Yes. It means that you've been talking to Bruce."

"Give me credit. I came to that conclusion on my _own_."

Dick smiled. "Devon and I have a good relationship, and that's all that matters."

"Tt." Damian said with disgust.

"_Tt _all you want. _I'm _happy." Dick smiled. "And right now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going downstairs into the cave to put on clothes that are _pretty_ close to being indecent."

"Your sense of humor is feeble at best, Grayson."

Dick grinned and waggled his brows at his brother before running lightly towards the Batcave, whistling.

Dick met Bruce coming out from behind the grandfather clock that concealed the entrance. "You're happy." Bruce noted.

"Yes, I am. Finished the program and _sent _it off. I am _all _done with this semester."

"Well, good. Good." Bruce stepped out of his way. "Take tomorrow off from Wayne Enterprises. You can start your expanded work week on Monday."

Dick tried not to let a look of disappointment cross his face. "Looking forward to it." He slid past his father and down the stairs.

"You're a bad liar, Dick." Bruce commented as Dick disappeared down the stairs.

Dick waved a hand over his shoulder. "I'll work on it!"

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Late That Night**

**December 13th**

Devon lay in the dark of her room, staring up at the ceiling, and thinking, for probably the _hundredth_ time, about how _stupid _she had been. How could she have _not _realized that Nightwing was Dick? In hindsight, with all that she now knew, it seemed so – obvious. Any rational, clear-thinking person would have come to the conclusion that Dick and Nightwing were the same person – but she apparently was _not _clear-thinking when it came to Dick Grayson. She was – biased.

And stupid. So very, very stupid.

She heard a knocking on the window, and her eyes widened. She sat up in disbelief. There was _no _way that he was here! There was _no _way that he could think that everything was okay enough for him to show up at her window, and expect for her to fall into his arms!

_What do you think, Devon? **He **doesn't know that **you** know his true identity. He **knows **that you kissed Dick Grayson, but he doesn't know why, and, if he is keeping up the charade, **Nightwing **wouldn't know anything at all about any of it!_

Devon wondered what to do, and, as she scrambled out of bed, she came to a decision. She would _let _him confess; she would give him the opportunity to confess. He would have to now, she reasoned again, wouldn't he – now that she had kissed Dick?

_He hasn't so far. _ The reasonable part of her mind pointed out.

She clicked on a small lamp, went to the window, and flung it open. His gorgeous, grinning face appeared at the opening, and, although she had to subdue a desire to slap him, she also had to subdue a desire to kiss him.

Instead, she compromised by scowling at him. "What are you doing here?" She hissed.

His face registered surprise. "Why?" He started to put a leg through the window, but hesitated. "It isn't that time of month, is it?"

"What?" She was momentarily nonplussed. "Oh – no. I – I...not yet."

"Good." He smiled, and entered her room fully, looming over her much as he had done the first time, causing her to step back to look up at him.

"So, are you all mine now?" He tossed his gloves aside, and ran his hands up and down her arms lovingly.

"What?" She pulled away, and his hands dropped.

He gave a lopsided smile. "Your finals. Remember? You said you were all mine after two P.M. every day, as of - yesterday, was it?" He sounded uncertain.

_Ha_! She thought. _As if he didn't know! _"Right." Her voice was tight.

He gathered her into his arms, and, God help her, she let him. _Why _did she let him? Why wasn't she, even now, pushing him away?

"Hmmm. I missed you." He bent his head and pressed his lips against her neck.

"Do you even go out patrolling at night anymore?" She asked peevishly, trying to ignore the softness of his mouth.

He lifted his head, a questioning look on his face – at least as much of his face that she could see. "I happen to have stopped a convenience store robbery in the Bowery." He drew his brows down, which caused the top of his mask to wrinkle. "What's wrong? Is it – are you having – PMS?"

Her eyes grew wide and she glowered at him. "You did _not _just ask me if I have PMS!"

Dick's face reddened. "Oh. I – I...never mind. I'm going to stop talking now." He kissed her gently, reverently, and she allowed him to walk her backwards to the bed. She did not forgive him, though; no, not at all. She just didn't know how to broach the topic – she didn't want to just _accuse _him. She wanted him to reveal the truth on his own, without prompting from her.

And then she wanted to slap him.

He eased her down onto the mattress and followed, stripping his computer from his wrist and removing his comm from his ear before bracing himself on his arms and leaning down for another kiss.

_Bastard! Kissing me like nothing is wrong – like he **hasn't **been lying to me for months._

She ignored the fact that she had been lying to him for nearly as long. Actually, longer.

_Shit! This is **not** about me lying to him! It's about **him **lying to me!_

He kissed her again, and, in her anger, she bit his bottom lip – a little too hard to be considered loving.

"Ow!" He pulled away. "Did you just – bite me?"

Her eyes narrowed. "A little. Maybe."

He grinned suddenly. "That's okay. I kind of liked it." He pulled off his top and dropped it on the bed above her.

He slid up the edge of her T-shirt and laid a line of kisses on her abdomen, and despite herself, she threaded her fingers through his hair and closed her eyes. Lord in heaven, she couldn't resist him.

But she had to. He couldn't continue to get away with all of the lies. Lies he told her as Dick. Lies he told her as Nightwing. Lies about himself, and about the _two_ of them.

He exposed one breast and took it into his mouth.

She exhaled raggedly, and he lifted his head to smile at her. "You taste so good."

He pressed a kiss to the underside of her breast, and moved up to her lips again.

His tongue thrust into her mouth, and, in a sudden wave of pique, she bit that, too. _Definitely _too hard to be considered anything other than hostile.

"Ow! Shit! You _bit _my damn tongue." He sat back and touched his tongue experimentally. "What is _wrong _with you tonight?" He climbed off the bed.

Tired suddenly of her own passive-aggressiveness, and too angry to wait for him to admit the truth, she sat up and threw his top at him.

"_What is wrong with __**me**_? What is wrong with _you, __**Dick**_?" She yelled, rage replacing anger.

He stood immobile for a long moment, his jaw slack in shock.

She scrambled off the bed, her face red.

He drew in a deep breath. "How did you find out?" Nightwing's rough, deep voice was replaced by Dick's smoother tone.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "_That's _the first thing you have to say to me after _months _of lying? Not, '_I'm sorry, Devon, for __**lying **__to you for __**months**_!' No! You ask me how _I found out_?!"

He expelled the breath he had been holding. "Look, I _am _sorry for lying to you."

"Then why _did_ you? _Why_? My _God_, what an _idiot _I was!" She pushed her hands through her hair in frustration. "All this time you were _Dick_, and I had no idea! _Why_? Why did you do it?"

He put a hand to his head. "I – didn't mean to – at first. I –"

She interrupted him with a shove that sent him back a step. "You didn't _mean _to?! What did you _not _mean to do? _Spy _on me, or _sleep_ with me, or _get caught_?"

He shook his head sadly, and another sigh escaped him. "All of it, really."

She gave a shrill scream. "Oh, my God! This gets worse and worse! You didn't mean to _sleep _with me?" She wanted to pull her hair out.

"Devon, keep your _voice_ down." He admonished in a loud whisper. "Your grandmother will hear you."

She swung a fist at him, which he dodged easily. "You do _not _get to tell me what to do!"

He held up both his hands, palms out. "Calm down." He said, trying to make his voice as soothing as possible.

She pointed an accusing finger at him. "And _do not_ use that superhero psychological _bullshit_ on me! _I _am not the one at fault here! I am _not _the one who lied over and over and _over_ again!" In her fury, she ignored the irony in that statement.

"Look. I'm sorry. I said that I'm sorry. What do you want me to do? Tell me, and I'll do it."

She picked up his wrist computer and threw it at him. "Get out! I want you to _**get out**_!" She grabbed his comm and it followed the computer.

"I don't want to leave you like this. I _want _to talk about this. Please, let's talk."

"_Now_ you want to talk about this? We could have talked about it for the past _three _months."

"You don't understand. I just – couldn't _tell _you."

"But you could do a _lot _of other things, couldn't you? But _those_ things you _wanted _to do, right?"

He became angry suddenly, as well. "Hey! I didn't notice you lying there _passively_. _You_ were involved, too!"

"I was involved with _Nightwing_! Not with _Dick Grayson_!"

"What's wrong with Dick Grayson?" He was insulted.

"I told him _'no_!' But that didn't matter, did it? You just found a way around my rejecting you!"

"So – what? You're telling me that I didn't _respect_ your decision? That I took your _choice_ away from you?"

"Yes!"

"Well, that's funny, because I remember you participating _very _enthusiastically – by _choice_."

"Well, I _wouldn't _have – if I had known it was _you_!" She said indignantly.

"So Nightwing is good enough to screw, but Dick isn't?" It was the question that he had tried not to ask for over a month.

She sputtered at him. "_You _do not get to judge me on _my _choices."

"Oh, but you get to judge me on _mine_?" He responded.

"Yes, I _do_! Because _yours_ affect _me_! Affect _my _life!" She pounded her chest.

"And you think that – _what_? That you exist in a _vacuum_? That what _you _decided didn't affect _me_?" He was truly angry now at her irrationality.

Her breath came out in a hiss. 'I can't talk to you like this. Take off that – that _stupid _mask. I want to see your eyes."

He looked at her for a long moment, and, then, with an exasperated sigh, reached up to detach the adhesive from his skin.

She watched him with what was almost dread. Suddenly, she didn't _want _to see him unmasked.

He pulled the disguise off slowly, and, suddenly, Dick Grayson stood in front of her, staring at her with his impossibly blue eyes.

She put a hand up to her mouth in distress, and, then, without thinking, the same hand snaked out and slapped him, hard, across the cheek.

His head snapped to the side, and he put his own hand up to his face. "Ow! Shit! Why the hell did you do that?" He asked, his eyes blazing.

Tears began to form, and her rage was replaced by sadness and a sense of betrayal. "I just realized it all – that it's all true." She sank down on the bed wearily and put her head in her hands.

All his anger drained away as well, and his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I – never meant to hurt you. I would do – anything to take it all back."

She brushed away her tears. "But you can't." She looked at him, standing there before her, Dick Grayson in the bottom half of a Nightwing costume.

The man she loved.

"Why did you do it?" She asked, ready, finally, to listen to his answer.

He shrugged and, crossing his arms above him and resting his hands on his head, he looked up at the ceiling. "Because I love you." He dropped his arms and looked at her. "Because I've loved you since the second I saw you."

Shock and surprise settled over her face, and she blinked at him slowly. "Wh – what?"

He sighed and sat on the bed, as well, but careful not to touch her. "I don't know what to call it. Love at first sight, I guess. I know – it's stupid, and _clichéd_, and unbelievable, but – it's true."

She looked at him, sitting on the bed next to her, his head bowed, his arms crossed over his legs, his hands clasped loosely. He looked – defeated.

"S – since you met me at the diner?"

He gave an embarrassed smile. "No. Before then. The day that Wally ran into you at the student union." His smile was sad now, and he stole a look at her. "And I was never so glad that Wally has a girlfriend as I was that day." He drew in a deep, bracing breath. "Because I wanted you for myself."

"Wh – wha?" She was clearly shocked. "You saw me that day?"

He nodded. "Yeah. And, in _that _moment, all I wanted was to find out more about you. And have you smile at me, like you smiled at Wally. And hear you laugh. And feel the touch of your hands. And – and _taste_ you, and – hold you in my arms."

She looked at him, but was unable to speak through the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

He continued. "And you didn't want _anything _to do with me. And I didn't know what to do. And – being Nightwing – I saw that I could be with you – without you realizing that – it was me. Yeah, I _know _that it was wrong. It was _wrong_. No doubt. But you didn't want – _me_. You didn't want _Dick Grayson_. But you wanted Nightwing. And I just thought – 'yeah, I can be Nightwing for her. I can be anyone she wants.' And that was wrong. And you're right. I should have respected your decision. And I'm sorry that I didn't. But I'm not sorry about the time I've spent with you, because – I've never been happier."

During the course of his speech, she had covered her mouth with both of her hands, and, after he had finished, she looked at him for a long while.

He watched her uncertainly. "Say something. Please."

She finally lowered her hands. "D – did you know that I worked at the diner the day – the first day you came in?"

"Wally told me."

"So you came here that day to – to see – _me_?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"And you were here the night – the night we got broken into, because you were _watching_ me? It wasn't a coincidence?"

He shook his head guiltily. "No. it wasn't a coincidence."

She was confused. "H – how did you know I lived above the diner?"

He took a deep breath. _All in_. "I – I kind of – did a background check on you."

"You did a _what_?" She was aghast and frightened at the same time – frightened at what he might have discovered. She knew that Larry has covered her tracks electronically, but that had never really been tested! "You _checked _me out? What? On the _Bat computer_?"

"Yeah." He admitted reluctantly.

"Oh my _God_!" She stood and looked down at him. "You _must _be kidding me!"

"I'm sorry."

"_Sorry_? You were _stalking _me! I mean _really_ stalking me!"

"I shouldn't have done that."

"You're _damn _right you shouldn't have done that! How _dare _you?"

"It was wrong. Batman told me it was wrong, and –"

"_Batman_?! _Batman _knew that you were stalking me?" It _was _getting worse and worse – and _worse_. _Batman _knew about her?!

"He told me not to do it again."

"Well, thank God _one _of you has some morals!"

"Look, you have _every _right to be mad at me."

"You're damn right that I have – every right!" She blinked at her confusing words.

He stood, as well. "You do have every right. Every right to _yell _at me, and swear at me, and kick me out, and refuse to _ever _see me again. I _know _that what I did was wrong. I _know_ it. And I don't really have any excuse other than my feelings for you. I _really _do love you. And you might say that's creepy –"

She was starting to calm. "It _is _creepy." She agreed.

He put a hand on his forehead. "I know. I've _never _experienced that before – love at first sight, and I had _no_ idea how to get close to you. And it was a shortcut that I used – an illegal and immoral one, of course, but that's all it was - a shortcut. And I wouldn't have done it, but I wanted to get to _know _you, and I didn't see how else to do it. I – I hoped that we would meet, and that you would _like_ me – and we _did _meet, but then, you said you didn't want to have anything to do with me, and, like I said, I – didn't know what to do." He sighed, and dropped his arm to look at her. "I'm sorry. Will you – _can _you – forgive me?"

Her face was sad and angry and exasperated and hopeful all at once. He loved her. Even though he had done some very questionable things, it was because he loved her. "I love you." She said finally.

It was his turn to be shocked, and he dropped back onto the bed. "Wha?"

"I don't know when it happened, but it did. I fell in love with Nightwing." She sat next to him. "And I think I'm in love with Dick, too. And – every time I saw Dick after I started – _seeing _Nightwing, I – I – _wanted_ him, and I couldn't figure out why, because I had _you –_ I had Nightwing, and that should have been enough for me, but I couldn't help but – picture Dick in my mind, and I thought that I was the _most _horrible person for wanting him – Dick – when I had you – _Nightwing_. And _now _I know why. Because Dick is the other half of you. And I must have known – somewhere inside me – I must have known that. And I feel so _stupid _for not putting it all together sooner."

He shrugged, a gentle smile on his face. "Don't beat yourself up about it. I've had a lot of practice leading a double life."

"You do it really well." She agreed.

He nodded. "Thanks." There was a brief silence. "So, how _did _you find out?"

She shrugged. "When you gave me a ride home on your motorcycle."

"Oh." He nodded again, as if he understood, but he didn't. "Do I drive like Nightwing, or something?"

A half-smile came to her face. "It was your helmet. It smelled like – you. Your shampoo. Nightwing's shampoo. The shampoo I smell every time we're together."

"Shit." He gave a rueful nod. "I did _not _think about that."

"Yeah." She nodded, too.

He reached out a tentative hand to her, and she allowed him to slide his fingers through hers. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too."

"Do you hate me?" He asked.

"No. I'm still – pissed, but I don't hate you."

"Do – do you still – love me?"

She glowered at him. "Yes. Asshole."

He laughed, and gathered her into his arms. "Good, because I am _desperately_ in love with you."

She put his arms away from her, and he looked at her in shock.

"Just because I love you doesn't mean I'm not still _furious_."

"Oh. I – oh." He didn't know what to say. "Okay."

"And you have a lot to do to make it up to me."

He grinned suddenly. "I can think of a _couple _of things that I can do."

He reached for her, but she slapped his hands away. "Absolutely not."

He looked startled. "Why not?"

"Because I am no longer Nightwing's girlfriend. I'm dumping him for lying to me."

He looked at her in confusion. "I have no idea what's going on here."

"_Dick Grayson_ has a chance with me now, though."

His face twisted in bewilderment. "Devon, love, you're going to have to spell it out for me. I'm a guy."

She was exasperated. "Come to the diner tomorrow."

"As Dick?"

"Well, it would look _odd_ if Nightwing showed up at the diner, wouldn't it?"

He smiled again. "Oooooh. Are we going to try that little fantasy? You know, the one where I walk in in civilian clothes, and we go to the bathroom, and I..." He trailed off, a meaningful look in his eyes and a mischievous smile on his face.

Her brows shot up. "Hell, no. No, no, no. No fun and games for you for a while."

He pouted at her. "So why am I coming to the diner?"

She gave a frustrated sigh. "Really, Dick? You have to ask?"

"Apparently."

"Come to the diner and ask me out on a date!"

"Ask you out on a – date?"

She groaned. "Do you want me? Do you want me _at all_?"

"With everything that we _do_," he indicated the bed, "you have to ask me _that_?"

"I don't mean just _sex_. I mean _being _with me. Talking _with me_. Having meals _with me_. Going to the movies _with me_. Studying _with me_. Are you seeing a theme here?"

He had to smile. "Yes, I am." He leaned over and nuzzled at her neck. "And I do. Want you. More than anything."

She smiled. "You can come to lunch. I'll give you an extra pickle spear with your burger."

"With an offer like that, how could I refuse?" He kissed the edge of her jaw, and tried to lower her to the bed, but she pulled away.

"What's wrong this time?" He snapped himself out of the sexual stupor he had been sinking into.

"You have to go."

He stared at her. "Wha – why?"

"Well, like I said, I just dumped _Nightwing_. He has no _privileges_ anymore."

He crossed his arms on his chest, and they stared at each other until he gave a small chuckle, shook his head, and stood.

"Fine. Can I at least get a kiss?"

She looked at him, only inches away, and her heart leapt. He was so _beautiful_. But, he had to be taught a lesson. "I don't want to lead you on."

He sighed and reluctantly started to gather his things from the floor where she had thrown them. "You're a hard woman, Devon Wakeman."

"Sorry. I have scruples, you know." She said cheekily.

"I like the first half of that word." He slid his uniform top on. "So tomorrow at lunch?"

"Yes."

Any chance of you going home with me after your shift?"

She put a mocking hand on her chest. "I get to see the Batcave?"

He gave a sharp laugh. "Sorry. Off limits to girlfriends." He dropped to his knees in front of her, ostensibly to find his wrist computer, but he braced his arms on either side of her body, and leaned into her. "I can, however, promise you a very extensive tour of my apartment – starting with the bedroom, of course."

"Be still my heart. I think I'll pass – at least until I get a date out of you."

He sighed, and stood. "Fine."

He strapped his wrist computer on, and fitted the comm into his ear. He watched her for a few moments, hoping that she would relent and allow him to stay, but, after several seconds of silence, he turned to the window.

"See you around, _Dick Grayson_."

A smile crossed his face as he climbed out into the night.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Well, the other shoe has dropped, and Devon has confronted Dick with the truth! Well, part of the truth, anyway. The part of the truth that relates to her trying to kill him she has _conveniently _left out. Things will not go smoothly, however...

Please review!


	48. Chapter 48

**Author's Note: **_Today's the Day! _Since today marks the day that (fictionally) three years ago, our soon not-to-be sidekicks first decided to form their own team,and because it is Independence Day in the US, and, because that is where I live, I decided to post a BONUS chapter! Wow! I'm pretty sure that was a run-on sentence!

Anyway, happy 4th of July! I can say that to a worldwide audience, since it is the 4th of July everywhere! ; )

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Early the Next Morning**

**December 14th **

The dream was a familiar one. He was running through a blindingly bright tunnel, and someone was behind him. He turned his head slightly, and could see a massive hand reaching for him.

He increased his speed, but the arm grew longer, and, suddenly, there was a phone in it, and he heard a voice, dark and stentorian. "It's for you."

Wally sat up in bed abruptly, and looked at the table next to his bed, where his phone was ringing insistently.

He snatched it up and saw Dick's contact.

"Babe?" Artemis's sleepy voice came from beside him. "Who is it?"

"It's Dick." He swiped at the screen.

"It better be an apocalypse." She mumbled, and turned over. "No. It better not be, because we're not coming."

"Hello?" Wally's voice was concerned.

"Dude, she found out."

It was apparently not an emergency.

Wally fell back down on his pillow, his eyes closed. "Who found out what?"

"Devon found out who I am."

That woke Wally up completely. "Shit. Dude, I'm sorry. Is everything okay? Is she selling the story to a tabloid? Do we have to do some damage control?"

"What? No! Don't be ridiculous."

"How is that ridiculous? It's a very valid question."

"No, you don't understand. She's not mad. No, actually, she _is _mad. _Really _mad. But she forgives me – I think. And she told me that she loves me."

Wally sat up again. "Wait. _Really_? She's mad, but not that mad, because she told you that she _loves _you?"

"Yeah. I – I can't believe it. I think it's going to – work out."

"How the hell did this happen?"

"Wally..." Artemis groaned. "Tell Dick to have whatever crisis he's having during daylight hours."

"Yeah, okay, Babe. Sorry." He turned back to the phone. "Dude, I gotta go. Artemis says hi."

"Artemis says _hang up_!" She said against her pillow.

Dick, who had heard her, chuckled. "I get it. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I'm going to lunch at the diner to ask her out on a real date. Hey, you want to go?" As soon as he issued the invitation, he changed his mind. "No. Wait. That's a bad idea. I think I need to go by myself."

"Yeah. Better idea. Look, call me later – _much _later, okay?" Wally said.

"You working tomorrow?" Dick asked.

"I'm having office hours tomorrow for anyone who still needs to turn in late papers, so yeah. But I should be done by three at the latest."

"Maybe I'll give you a call if I'm not, you know, _otherwise _occupied."

"Dude, you have high hopes for this lunch date." Wally laughed.

"_Wallace Rudolph West!" _Artemis was done warning him.

Wally clicked off, but not before he heard Dick's laughter through the phone.

* * *

**Gotham City**

**Later that Morning**

**December 14th **

Devon watched the door of the diner all morning, waiting for Dick to walk through. Even though she had told him to come at lunchtime, he didn't always follow directions, so she was on guard for him.

After he had gone, the night before, she had regretted sending him away. She really had wanted nothing more than to fall into bed with him, but she had decided to be strong. He had to find out that he had to do more than flash his blue eyes and grin at her seductively to earn his place in her life.

He had to make an earnest effort to be more – honest with her.

Even as she thought that, her conscience was reminding her that she was anything _but _honest with him.

She ignored her conscience – after all, she had _never _lied to him about her identity, so it was completely different.

_Denial's not just a river in Egypt, _she told herself wryly.

At eleven-thirty, he walked into the restaurant and waited expectantly by the door.

She gave him a quick glance before turning to the old man who sat at the counter, and pouring him a cup of coffee. She laughed at something he said and wiped down the counter, continuing to ignore Dick.

However, Dick was hard to ignore. He was wearing tight black pants and a blue shirt that matched the color of his eyes exactly.

He was, in short, nearly irresistible.

Bastard.

However, she drew in a bracing breath and resolved again to be strong, and, finally, after several minutes of keeping him waiting, she walked over to him, being certain to take her time.

"Just one?" She asked brightly, smiling at him.

"Yes. Just me."

She made a moue of sympathy. "I'm so sorry. Counter okay?"

"I'd prefer a booth."

"Oh, sorry. No booths available right now."

He looked around at several empty booths, but said nothing. She was _obviously _going to make this all _very _difficult for him.

"Fine." He returned her smile. She was not going to chase him away.

Although he really didn't want to _court _her in front of an old man who spent too much time looking at her breasts, he didn't seem to have a choice, and, he silently followed as she escorted him to an empty stool.

She handed him a menu, and before he had opened it, she continued. "What'll you have?"

He gave a slightly aggravated smile, and handed it back to her. "What are the specials?"

"We have a mushroom-swiss burger served with a caramelized onion mayo – with fries, of course. We also have a grilled fish sandwich with remoulade sauce, also with fries, and a salmon Caesar salad."

"Does the burger have jalapeños?"

She looked at him with innocent eyes. "I don't think so. Do you want me to add them?"

He grinned. "No. Thank you."

"So you're having the burger, then?"

"Please. Rare."

She showed distaste on her face. "And fries?"

"Mm-hmm. Extra salt."

She raised a brow. "And to drink?"

"A diet soda. You _do _serve that, right?"

"Oh, yeah."

"And the soda machine is working – for sure?"

Another guileless look came over her face. "Of course."

"Oh, and I think someone told me that I get that burger with a _free _pickle spear."

She smiled at him, enjoying their repartee. "So you want _two_, then, do you?"

"Oh, yes. I was promised an extra pickle spear, so I'm collecting."

"I'll make sure you get it, then."

His smile in return was dazzling. "Thank you."

She left to put in his order, and, then, after attending to the other patrons, she returned to him with his drink.

"You want to try that and make sure it's really diet?" She asked.

"Don't mind if I do." He sipped it through a straw, and gave a thumbs up.

She nodded, and leaned on the counter, purposely giving him a view of her cleavage. She looked at him thoughtfully. "I know you, don't I?"

"Do you?"

"I think so. _Dick_, isn't it?" She asked, emphasizing his name.

His smile turned into a grin. "Yeah."

"Unfortunate name."

"I was named after my grandfather. They called him _Big Dick._"

Her brows shot up. "Would that make you _Little Dick_?"

"I think you know the answer to that." His grin was now enormous.

She laughed. "I don't think I remember."

"I could – jog your memory, if that would help."

"Hmm." She straightened. "I bet that you could."

She walked off, and he watched the sway of her hips as she went. He had missed this with her – this gentle flirting, this thrill of discovery, and he was glad, suddenly, that she had found out his true identity. He could be himself with her now – no hiding behind masks, or holding back, or second guessing himself with her. He was finally free – free of all the lies.

She came back to refill his drink a few minutes later. "So, _Dick_, what do you do for a living?"

He smiled. "Well, I'm a student at Gotham University –"

"Hey. Me, too." She interrupted him with a smile.

"Cool! What's your major?"

She shrugged. "I think I'm undecided."

"Really?" He was surprised. He thought that she was a science major of some sort.

"Yeah. I'm – re-evaluating my life."

"Hm. That could be a good thing."

"It _could _be. And what about you? Let me guess." She looked at him with appraising eyes, as if she had just met him, and not as though they had shared the most intimate things that two people could share. "Business major."

He smiled. "Close – I guess. Computer science."

"Ah. Of course." She nodded in acknowledgment. "But, to be frank, I thought that all computer science majors were unshaven geeks in Birkenstocks and socks."

"Ha. Not quite. Although there are some of those, too, I suppose."

"But not you."

"No, not me." He smiled and looked down self-consciously.

"Do you always dress like this?"

"Like what?"

"You know. Shirts that match your eyes?"

"Well," he smiled, and there was a light of mischief in those eyes. "I dress to impress."

She widened her eyes.

"Have I?" He asked.

She raised her brows and made a noncommittal sound.

He laughed then, and she smiled. "Maybe you do impress – a little."

"I'm glad."

The bell at the pass rang to indicate that a meal was ready to be served, and she excused herself.

George, of course, was peering at Dick. "Hey, Devon. That's the cute guy. He's back."

She blushed as she took the plate from the pass. "I can see that."

"And he's not with that other girl."

"I know."

George looked closely at Devon. "He _is _your boyfriend, isn't he?"

She reddened more deeply. "Don't tell my grandmother, okay?"

George pretended to lock his lips. "I won't say a word."

"Thank you."

The plate was for another table, and then the lunch rush began, and she did not get back to Dick for several minutes.

When she returned to check on him, she faltered. He sat at the counter, happily chewing his burger.

"How – how did you get that?" She certainly had not given it to him.

He looked up at her. "Uh. The cook. He's really nice. He brought it to me."

"Oh, he did, did he?" Meddling George!

"Yeah. And the burger's great. Look! No jalapenos." His face was shining with good humor, and she had to smile. He was so _ridiculously, incredibly _gorgeous.

How could she resist him?

She couldn't.

So why wasn't he asking her out?

She decided to ask. "So, _Dick_, did you come here for a particular purpose?" She leaned over the counter again.

He nodded and wiped his mouth. "Yeah, I did." He pointed at his plate. "Lunch."

She reddened. "Well, if that's _all_, please enjoy." She flounced away petulantly, grabbed a ready plate from the pass, and carried it off, while Dick grinned at her.

He was enjoying _this_, too – this making her sweat a little.

After a few minutes, he noticed her going into the supply room, and he decided that it was an opportunity that he couldn't pass up. He threw down his napkin and followed her.

The supply room was really more like a closet, he discovered when he slid inside. She was reaching onto a high shelf for a package of napkins, and he came up behind her and gently put his hands on her hips.

She gave a small jump, but allowed him to draw her back against him.

His arms encircled her waist, and he pressed his lips at the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

She sighed and closed her eyes. "You shouldn't be doing this. I barely know you." She murmured.

"I think you know me well enough." He whispered into her ear.

She purred and leaned back against him. He allowed his hands to trail up her sides and to her breasts.

"Dick," she breathed.

He turned her into his arms and kissed her. His hands slid down to her buttocks and he urged her against his growing erection.

"Dick." She repeated when he finally released her lips. "I need to get napkins."

"Hmm. Okay. I'll help." He kissed her again, his tongue going into her mouth.

She groaned and tightened her arms around his neck.

He pushed her gently against the shelves, and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his torso and crossed her ankles behind his back.

"I'm wrinkling your shirt." She pointed out when her lips were free.

"I don't care." He muttered.

"Dick – I – we – need to get back."

"No we don't."

"I have a job."

He freed one of his hands, and snaked it down between them. He found his way inside her panties, and slid his fingers into her. She gasped.

"Dick. D – don't."

There was a look of satisfaction on his face. "Don't what?"

"D – don't do that."

"Do what?" His voice was low and smooth, and she closed her eyes as his talented fingers made her body jump.

"N – no. I – I can't."

"Can't what?" He was torturing her – and himself, he noted.

"I – I have to get back to work. P – people are waiting for their food."

He groaned in defeat, and, removing his hand, lowered her to the floor. "Fine."

Her legs shaky, she tried to smile at him, and he rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip. "So when can I see you again?"

She snapped back to the present. "In about a minute, in the dining room."

"Funny girl. How about tonight?"

She looked pensive. "Can I think about it?"

He laughed and impulsively kissed her. "Don't think too long. After all, it's been a _long _time since..." He trailed off.

"Since _what_?"

"Since – you _know_." He smiled seductively.

"Oh, so you think I'm going to put out on the first date?"

"You just put out right now." He pointed out reasonably.

"I _beg _your pardon?"

He realized his misstep. "Oh. Uh. I – ahem. I didn't mean that. Besides," he changed the subject quickly, "_technically_, it's our _third _date."

Her brows rose. "_Really_?"

He nodded. "We went out for coffee, if you'll recall – when we had our first kiss – and," he hastened to add, "it was _magical_."

"_That _was not a date."

"What was it, then?"

"It was just – going out for coffee."

"I still assert that it was a date."

"Hmm." She did not seem convinced.

He smiled. "And, also, we went to go see _The Lord of the Rings _movies – and that was so long it _should _count as two or three dates."

"But it doesn't."

He shrugged. "Whatever you say."

"Fine. This is our third date. Where are we going?"

"Where do _you_ want to go? I picked our last date."

"Dick, what I know about the amusements available in this city would fit on the head of a pin."

"_Amusements_, huh?"

"Well, you know what I mean."

"Yes, I do." He bent his head to kiss her exposed collarbone. "We can always go out to dinner. What do you like?"

"Everything."

"Good. I, too, like everything. Thai?"

"I like Thai."

"Good. I know this little place that does the most _outrageous _pad Thai."

"_Outrageous_?"

"You scoff. You'll be singing a different tune once you put it in your mouth."

Her brows shot up again. "Will I?"

"Most definitely." He could not contain his grin.

"Hmm. I might have to _test _your assertion."

"I would love you to."

"Are we still talking about Thai?" She murmured, her eyes fixed on his, almost mesmerized.

"I don't think so." His voice was low and seductive and his eyes hooded.

"Good."

He was suddenly business-like, trying to throw her off balance. "So, Thai it is. Eat-in or take-out?"

She snapped back to attention. "Oh, I have a choice? I assumed that you would get take-out and feed it to me after tying me to your bed."

His eyes gleamed. "Is that an option? Because, if it is, I am _so_ into it."

She shook her head. "It's not. It was a joke."

"Damn it. Ugh. _Fine_." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'll get rid of the rope. And pick you up at five. Give you time to shower and change."

"Are you saying I smell?"

"No. I am, in fact, _not _saying that you smell. I would _never _tell you that. Ever."

She gave him a mockingly wary look. "All right, then. What else do you have in mind for our third date?"

"Oh, well." He cleared his throat. "Be prepared to spend the night –"

"You're over-confident."

"And you keep coming back to sex! You have a dirty mind. I meant that I want to spend the whole night talking. We have _so _much to talk about."

She squelched the guilt that rose inside her. "And _you _are going to be forthcoming on your answers."

He spread his arms wide. "I will be an open book for you, my love."

Just then, the door opened, and George peeked his head in. "I thought I'd find you here." His eyes darted to Dick quickly, before averting them completely. "Uh, Devon, there are – um, a couple of plates ready. And we need napkins, and drink refills, and..." He trailed off.

Devon's face flamed almost painfully. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, George. I'll be right there."

"N – no problem." He backed out, and shut the door.

She and Dick exchanged looks – hers embarrassed, and his amused.

"I – think I have to get back to work."

"I'll get your napkins." He offered, and she nodded quick thanks as she straightened her hair and uniform.

He watched her, and, when she finished, she looked at him. "Will I pass muster?"

He smiled and tenderly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "For the most part. Although your lips look a little – swollen."

Her fingers went to her mouth. "Oh."

"That's okay. I'm sure my shirt looks twice as bad."

It was very wrinkled, that was certain.

"Great. Everyone is going to see me come out followed by a man."

"If you want, we can _really _give them something to talk about. I'll come out with my fly down."

"Dick!"

He laughed. "They'll just think that you just satisfied some sort of kinky fantasy in the supply closet."

"Oh, I'm sure that's _exactly _what they wanted when they came here for lunch."

"True. Okay. You go out by yourself and I'll follow in a couple of minutes." He gave her a quick kiss. "But you owe me."

'Hmmph." She made a sound of derision and opened the door.

"Devon?" His voice, warm and loving, stopped her, and she turned back to look at him.

"What? I have to get back to work!" She was getting exasperated.

He held out a plastic-covered package with his clean hand. "You forgot your napkins."

* * *

**Gotham City**

**That Afternoon**

**December 14th **

"Are you going out?" Marie, Devon's grandmother, stood in the doorway of her granddaughter's bedroom.

Devon left her perusal of the clothes strewn on the bed. "Uh. Yeah. I'm going out with – some friends." A little white lie never hurt anyone.

The older scowled. "Friends? What friends?"

Devon shrugged, and looked critically at a frilly lavender blouse. "Just some people from school."

"Where are you going?"

"Dinner, probably, and maybe – I don't know, a club or something." She did not want to tell the older woman about Dick – for many reasons.

"A club?"

"Yeah, you know. Dancing, music, etc."

"I – don't know if I like that idea."

Devon goggled at her grandmother. "Grandma, I am _twenty-one _years old."

"So?"

"So – and I say this with love, I'm of legal age."

"But you live under my roof." She reminded Devon.

Devon's eyes widened. "_Excuse me_? Firstly, this building is in _my _name, too, and paid for with money from _my _parents. _Secondly, _I work my _ass _off, and I never, ever, ever give you _any_ problems. _Any_. So if I want to go out on a Friday night, when I don't have work or school the next day, I am sure as hell going to go."

Marie's jaw dropped. "B – but what about Larry?"

"_I _am not Larry's slave, and, if he objects, he can go screw himself."

"Devon!"

Her granddaughter looked at her with an implacably set chin and a belligerent look in her eyes.

Marie, with a visible loosening of the muscles in her shoulders, sighed and cast her eyes down. "I just worry about you."

The fight left Devon, as well, and she put a hand on her grandmother's shoulder. "I know. But I'm cautious, and I know how to handle myself. And you know that – well, that I'm not easily hurt. I'll be okay."

Still unconvinced, Marie shrugged. "Call me if you do stay out all night. Otherwise I'll probably just be calling all the hospitals and the police station."

Devon smiled. "I will. I promise."

* * *

After Marie had gone, Devon ran to her phone and pulled up Dick's contact.

_Can you pick me up at the dry cleaners down the street?_

It wasn't long before she had a reply. _**Are you going to get dressed at the dry cleaners?**_

_Ha ha. Very funny. Could you please?_

_**Of course, my love. God! I love texting that to you!**_

She smiled and responded. _No more tiptoeing around the truth._

_**I have to admit that I DO love tiptoeing.**_

_I'll see you soon._

_**Counting the minutes!**_

She put the phone down and went back to choosing what to wear.

She looked critically at her meager wardrobe. Most of her clothing consisted of jeans and unimpressive blouses – nothing suitable for a hot date.

And it was guaranteed to be hot. She had told Dick that there wouldn't be anything physical between them tonight, but she was rapidly changing her mind. He was much, much, much too sexy to resist for long.

She looked at a slinky black blouse that she had had for five years or so – it had been an impulse buy back when she was in high school, and she figured it would be a bit too tight for her now.

Perfect. After all, he liked her breasts, so she might as well emphasize them.

A slightly short houndstooth skirt that she had worn to an interview, and the black high heels that she had bought for prom, and she was ready.

She slid on her coat and grimaced. A puffy, pink coat did not exactly scream _sexy_.

She shed it with a shrug. So she would be cold. Big deal. He could keep her warm.

With a final good-bye to her grandmother, she set off, a small smile on her face.

She was so lucky. So lucky that the most incredible, gorgeous man in the world _wanted _her.

It was almost too much to believe; it seemed like a dream.

And she hoped that she never, ever woke up.

* * *

Devon kept Dick waiting only a few minutes outside the dry cleaners.

When he saw her approaching on the sidewalk, he jumped out of the car and came around to greet her.

She was wearing a sleek black blouse with a scoop neck that exposed her cleavage nicely, and that hugged her figure very well. She had paired it with a short houndstooth skirt and a pair of high black heels, and the combination was sexy and demure at the same time.

_Very nice_, he thought.

He grinned at her when she stopped in front of him. "Wow – you look – wow."

He noticed, then, that her lips were rather blue, her nose red, and that she was shivering.

"You're freezing. Where's your coat?" He frowned at her.

She shook her head. "It ruined the outfit. I only have a big, puffy coat."

"For God's sake, here." He took off his coat and gave it to her, and she was treated to the sight of his muscular arms and chest in a black, silk, button-down shirt.

"No, I don't want to take yours."

"Don't worry. I never wear a coat." He held open the car door and she climbed in gratefully.

Once he was inside, as well, he turned on the engine and put the heater on high.

Devon extended her hands to the vents and gave a sigh of pleasure. "This feels so good."

He watched her, smiling gently, then reached out and touched her cheek, and she turned into his hand and looked at him.

"Am I allowed to kiss you?" He asked, and she nodded, not taking her eyes from him. He framed her face with his hands and leaned over and kissed her lightly, his lips soft.

When he finally pulled away, her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

She shook her head. "Not really."

He pulled out into traffic. "Not really, huh? Is there something else you'd rather do?"

She reached over into his lap to touch him, and he jumped.

"_Really_?" He asked, and she nodded silently.

He pulled over to the curb, took her into his arms, and kissed her deeply. "I thought that I wasn't getting any of that for a while."

"Unfortunately, if you don't, neither do I."

He drew in a deep breath. "And that's a problem?"

"It is tonight."

He smiled at her. "Look, we can compromise. We'll get Thai food delivered."

"Okay." She nodded, not caring if she ever saw food again.

"So – you _sure _you want to go to my apartment? I mean, I know I was joking about it earlier, but that's all it was – a joke. We don't have to – _do_ – anything you don't want to."

"Oh, I want to."

A grin split his face. "Okay. Let's go."

They were at the door to his apartment within thirty minutes, and, as he fumbled with the keys, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, still wearing his coat, and peppered his shirted back with kisses.

He finally got the door open and they fell through it.

He kicked it shut, and picked her up in his arms, his lips already finding the spot on her neck that drove her crazy.

"Dick," she breathed, and he had never thrilled to hearing his name more.

He carried her into the bedroom and threw her onto the bed playfully.

She lay there in all her clothes, with his coat still on, and he began shedding his shirt.

"Next time, just wear the coat." He smiled as she started disrobing, and was rewarded with the same coat thrown at his head.

* * *

"This is nice." She murmured, curled in his arms, the bed sheet covering them both.

"Hmm." He kissed the back of her shoulder. "What is?"

"Everything. Especially the big bed."

"God, yes. I don't feel like I'm going to fall out on my ass. What else?"

"The fact that I could, you know, make a _little _more noise without having to worry about my grandmother."

"And my not having to jump out the window wearing nothing but a condom is also a plus."

"Yeah. That, too."

He laughed and she joined in.

He turned her over, and, in the low light of his bedside lamp, peered at her. "I love you."

A small smile came to her lips. "Me, too."

He kissed her, and they assumed their previous positions, curled like spoons in a drawer.

"Are you tired?" He asked when she yawned.

She nodded.

"Why don't you take a nap while I order dinner?"

"You don't mind?"

"As long as you don't mind me taking pictures of you sleeping naked."

She closed her eyes and tucked her fist under her chin. "Just make sure you get good money selling them on the internet."

He kissed her cheek and, after pulling on some underwear, walked, humming, to the kitchen. It was nearly seven P.M., and he was _ravenous_. He didn't know how she couldn't be, unless she had eaten a late lunch – _his _burger was long gone.

He opened a drawer and fished out a menu from the local Thai restaurant and was trying to decide if he should get pad Thai and street noodles or some sort of rice dish when his phone rang.

It was Wally.

"Hey, Dude." Dick smiled into the phone.

"Spill."

His smile turned into a grin. "What about?"

"Don't '_what about_' me? Tell me what happened with Devon!"

Dick chuckled. "Nothing much."

"Seriously? _Seriously_? You called me up at _three A.M._ to tell me that she found out, and _now _you don't want to give me details? Wait. Is it because she's there with you? Are you at home? Is she there?"

"She's taking a nap."

"Why is she taking a nap at seven?"

"Because I exhausted her. Obviously."

"Oh, God. I did _not _need to hear that!"

"Why? You jealous?"

"When _you _can vibrate your molecules, we'll talk about exhausting a woman."

"Ooooooh!" Dick laughed. "I just got _schooled_."

"Damn straight. Now tell me what happened."

"She – found out."

"Yeah, I _get _that. _How_?"

He sighed. "I saw her walking home a couple of days ago, and so I stopped and gave her a ride on my motorcycle."

"Okay. Normal. I guess. Wait. Were you _Dick _at the time?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Whatever. So how did that lead to her figuring it out?"

"Ah. Well, I gave her my helmet to wear, and she recognized the scent of my shampoo."

"Curse your healthy and manageable hair!"

Dick shook his head in exasperation. "Really?"

"It sounded good in my head. So – hey? She found out, and – what? Confronted you?"

"Yeah. And she was _mad –_ like spitting nails mad."

"Yeah. I don't blame her. How'd you get out alive?"

"Easy. I told her I was sorry, and I also told her that – I'm in love with her."

"And are you?"

"Dude, you know I am. A scary lot."

"And so she forgave you?"

"I had to do some groveling, but – I deserved to."

"Not too much groveling if you're already back to exhausting her."

"Well, what can I say? I'm irresistible. And I have _amazing_ stamina."

"Yeah. We'll go with that. Did you tell Bruce?"

"Nooooooooo." Dick drew out the syllable. "I want some lecture-free time – just her and me, you know? No Bruce and no – nothing. Just us. I'm not even going out patrolling."

"For tonight or indefinitely?"

Dick turned and looked at the doorway to the bedroom where Devon lay sleeping. "I don't know. Giving it up doesn't seem like – such a bad thing now."

* * *

Devon woke up in a dark room at nearly nine P.M., and, for a moment, was confused.

She sat up abruptly, looked around, and remembering the events of earlier, smiled.

Thoughts of Dick came flooding back, and she lay down happily, luxuriating in the feel of cool sheets against her bare skin. She turned over, put her face into his pillow, and drew his scent deep into her lungs.

It was paradise.

A paradise tainted with sudden thoughts of Larry and her mission, and the lies and secrets that she still kept.

She pushed those thoughts from her mind. She would have to deal with them soon enough; she was going to enjoy _now_.

She rose and, unsteady on her feet, walked to the bureau, the light from the open door providing enough for her to see. She pulled open the top drawer and grabbed a white T-shirt.

The rest of the apartment smelled like Thai food, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. Dick was seated at the kitchen counter, his back to her, a laptop open in front of him.

An open take-out container with chopsticks sat beside him, and she realized the source of the aroma.

Padding silently on bare feet, she slid her arms around his torso from behind and kissed the crook of his neck.

"Hmmm." His hands came down to cover hers. "Finally up, sleepy head?"

She put her chin on his shoulder and nodded. "Sorry I passed out like that."

"No need to apologize. It's a compliment to me."

She chuckled. "I guess it is."

He swiveled on the stool, and looped his own arms around her. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept the sleep of the well – _ahem. _You know."

He gave a small smile. "Yes, I do. I was there." He indicated the food container. "Hungry?"

She made a face. "Not right now."

"No? Don't you ever eat?"

"Oh, don't worry. I _eat_. I could probably eat you under the table. Just not now. Maybe later."

"Hmm. Okay. Hey, I like my shirt on you."

She looked unconvinced. "Sure you don't mind?"

"What? No! You should pre-wear all my clothes so I can imagine you in them."

"You might want to imagine me _out _of them instead."

He smiled. "I think I like that idea better." He stood and picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his torso, much as she had in the closet earlier that day.

He carried her to the bedroom and lay her down, then followed.

"Dick." She tore her mouth from his. "Dick. Dick. _Dick!_" She had to repeat his name until he finally sat back.

"What?" He devilishly began edging her T-shirt up.

"I want to talk. You _promised _me that we would talk."

"But you said you wanted out of my clothes." He pouted like a child deprived of a toy.

She smiled, and, sitting, as well, lovingly brushed the hair back from his eyes. "We have all night. I just woke up – I'm not going to need to sleep for a while."

He tried to look injured. "Fine. Whatever. Talk. I guess." She pushed at one of his shoulders playfully, and he grabbed her wrist and brought her in for a kiss. "What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you want to tell me."

"I guess I should start by telling you that I'd really like to have sex again tonight."

"Dick! You know what I mean." She swatted at him, and he ducked with a laugh.

"All right, all right. Fine." He threw himself on the bed, and she lay beside him, allowing him to enfold her in his arms. "I'll start at the beginning. You already know some of it. Everything I told you at the theater that day – that was all true. I was – in the circus. And my parents – died. And I was adopted." He looked at her. "But that wasn't the whole story." He gave a deep sigh. "My parents fell because a – _thug_ named Tony Zucco was trying to make an example out of them."

Devon gasped, and Dick rubbed her arm and continued. "And there was a guy in the audience who – who had lost his parents, too, and decided to adopt me so I wouldn't go into foster care."

"Bruce Wayne."

He gave her a pointed look. "I forgot you know about him."

"And I can guess who Bruce Wayne is." She looked around suddenly. "Is it – safe to talk in here?"

"You mean, like can anyone in the next apartment hear us, or is this place bugged?"

She nodded. "Both."

"No. This place is one hundred percent secure – unless you happen to be one of my brothers. Or Batgirl. Then it's like Grand Central Station."

Her eyes narrowed. "Batgirl comes in unannounced, huh?"

He help up his hands in supplication. "I _did _not say that."

"Yes, you did."

His face flamed, and he began hemming and hawing. "Uh, well, I – didn't mean that?" He ended the sentence in a question, and she gave him a dark look.

"We'll talk about _Batgirl _later – and I _think _that I might know who that is." Visions of the redhead from the diner came into her head.

He grimaced. "Maybe honesty _isn't_ the best policy for me."

She ignored his words – for more than one reason. "Back to before – okay, so Bruce Wayne adopted you."

"Right."

"And he's Batman?"

Dick didn't answer, and she rolled her eyes. "Dick, it does _not _take a genius to figure that out. You're Nightwing – you used to be Robin, and you just _happen _to be the adopted son of the richest man in Gotham. Honestly, it's not that hard to figure out once you have _one _piece of the puzzle."

"Yeah. I guess not."

"Anyway, your secret – _his _secret – is safe with me – forever. I promise."

He smiled at her tenderly. "Thank you."

"So this _guy _who killed your parents – what happened to him?"

Dick's face darkened into something almost ugly. "I – Bruce and I – hunted him down. I _wanted _to kill him. Part of me still regrets that I didn't, I think. But I – didn't." He looked at her and gave a quick, bitter smile.

"Where is he now?"

"Dead. But not by my hand. Or Bruce's." He sighed, and, releasing her, pressed both his palms against his eyes.

Seeing how it affected him, she frowned. "I'm sorry. I – I shouldn't have asked about it. It's got to be – hard."

He dropped his hands and shook his head. "No. No. It's okay. Really. I can't keeping giving him power over my life. Besides, I promised you full disclosure."

"You don't have to."

He turned on his side to look at her. "No. No. I – _want _to. Really. I don't want there to be any secrets between us."

Guilt gnawed a hole into her stomach, and she mustered only a wan smile.

He fell back against the bed again. "So, what else should I tell you? Oh. I can tell you about Damian – and Tim."

"Your brothers, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah, my two youngest."

"Actually, that brings me to a question."

"Shoot."

"You brought one of your brothers to the diner. Jason."

Dick was wary. "Yeah?"

"And, then, the day after Thanksgiving, you came and told me to watch for him. What – happened to him?"

He looked at her for a long time, wondering how much to say. "That night?" He shrugged. "We had a fight – he and I and Bruce. He and Bruce haven't – gotten along for a while." He gave a sad smile. "They're too much alike, but _way _too stubborn to admit it."

She put a hand up to her mouth for a moment, as if trying to think of the best words to use. "I read online that you had a brother named Jason who – died. Did you have two brothers named Jason, or was the story wrong?"

He blew air between his lips. "There's only one Jason."

"And the news story?"

"It was right."

She blinked in shock.

"And wrong, at the same time. _Something_ happened to Jason. I don't know what. I doubt that _he _knows what happened. And we don't – talk about it. When – when we got him back, we – had some problems with him, it's true, but I – _we _were just _so happy _to have him that we – at least _I – _never really investigated. I didn't want to know."

"And you haven't seen him since Thanksgiving?"

He shook his head. "No. I'll admit that I'm worried, but this isn't the first time he's disappeared. Probably won't be the last."

She gave a rueful smile. "I'm sorry."

He stroked her face. "Thank you." They stared at each other in companionable silence, until he smiled. "I should tell you about Tim. Tim is – a genius. Probably as smart as Bruce – and that's saying something. And he's – sweet. And kind. Oh, and Dami. He's a genius, too. Supposedly, he has a PhD in something. I don't remember what."

"How old is he?"

"Ten."

"He has a PhD at the age of ten?"

"Actually, I think he was eight – or nine."

"Nine? Dick, come on! No nine year-old can have a PhD."

"Well, Damian does. Although, to be honest, his mother might have bought it for him. She's the type."

"Is he the precocious one?"

"_Precocious _is an understatement. But he's – the greatest. He always pretends to hate it when I kiss him or hug him, but," Dick grinned. "He _loves _it. His mother – and, God help him, his father – are not very – _demonstrative_."

"And you are."

"Is that bad?"

"No. I was stating a fact. You are. I've really never met someone as – affectionate as you."

"Is – is _that_ bad?"

She laughed. "No. Not at all. God, no! I – I love it." She smiled shyly. "I do. You make me feel – I don't know." She shrugged and looked away. "Special, I guess. Important. You – did as Nightwing, and you – you _do_ as Dick."

"It's not hard. You _are_ – both of those things. To me."

He leaned in for a kiss when he suddenly snapped his fingers. "Oh, I have to tell you about Alfred!"

She had been looking forward to the kiss, and blinked in surprise. "Who's Alfred?"

"Alfred? Alfred is – everything. He's one of the greatest people I've ever met."

"What does he do?"

"Everything. He takes care of Bruce, he takes care of us. He cooks and cleans and buys our birthday presents and stitches our wounds, and provides moral support, and – everything."

She smiled wistfully. "He sounds – great."

"He is. You'll meet him – soon. But not too soon. I want to keep you to myself for a while."

He pushed a tendril of hair off her face. "A _long_ while."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Well, I hope that you liked Dick's and Devon's first post-revelation "date." They are happy now, but you KNOW that won't last - for more reasons than one! You can probably guess at one of the things that is going to change their relationship, but you'll probably NEVER guess the other! If you have a guess, you can PM me, and I will tell you if you're right.

Oh, and BTW, a soundtrack of YJ music is available for pre-order on Amazon or at the website of the record company, La-La Land Records. If you can support the show through the purchase of the soundtrack, which will be released on July 16, or by pre-ordering the video game, which is coming, I think, in September, we have a better chance at getting the show back on the air!

Also, PLEASE review; I am currently on the second page of most-reviewed YJ fics, and I would REALLY like to be on the first page! I would be SO HAPPY! : )


	49. Chapter 49

**Author's Notes: **I had a very nice message recently from a reader named XLil MEkoX, who asked me if I would mind if she wrote a fanfic based on the incidents surrounding Jason Todd in "Shatter Me!" I, of course, said "YES!" The result of that is her fic, "Shadows of the Night," which follows Jason as he maneuvers through his whole life during this period. Please check it out - it's very good!

Also, thanks to sunflower13 for her tireless betareading!

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**A Few Hours Later**

**December 15th**

Dick turned over and reached sleepily for Devon, but found only sheets. He opened one eye blearily and looked around, and saw a light under the door.

He got up and followed the light to the kitchen, where Devon, with her back to him, was sitting on a stool, wearing a t-shirt and panties, eating pad Thai with a fork.

Like she had done to him earlier, he came up behind her silently, and slipped his arms around her.

She jumped, and he laughed. "Did I scare you?"

"A little. I was just – lost in thought."

"Hmm." He kissed her ear. "Penny for them."

"You don't want to know them. Boring."

"I see you found dinner. You're finally hungry, huh?"

"Finally. And now I feel like I could eat a truckload."

"I like a girl with a healthy appetite."

"I've got that in abundance."

"I'm glad."

"You say that now. Let's see what happens when I eat you out of house and home."

"We could have eating contests. That'll be fun." He pulled her gently to her feet and over to the sofa.

She settled down within the circle of his arms and legs, and continued on her meal.

"Do you know how to use chopsticks?" He watched as she wound the noodles around her fork.

"Yeah, but I couldn't find any. I was lucky to find a fork."

"The rest are probably in the dishwasher."

"I did _not _think to look there. Brilliant, Devon."

"I'll have to give you the tour later. I did promise, after all."

"But you started with the bedroom, _just_ like you promised."

"Well, if I were being honest, I would say that was selfishly motivated."

She laughed, and leaned her head against him. "You're not so selfish. You gave me a couple of things earlier."

"Glad to be of service."

There was silence for a long moment, and she put aside the take-out container to turn to him. "Does this feel weird to you?"

"What? No! Of course not!" He looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean – here we _are_." She was quiet, an expectant look on her face.

"Okay." He was puzzled.

She shrugged almost disconsolately. "It's just that - we weren't supposed to get involved on an – emotional level. That was the whole idea, remember?"

He drew in a deep breath. "Devon, love. Please tell me the next words out of your mouth are _not _that this isn't going to work. Please."

She shook her head. "Dick, the reasons why I didn't want to get involved _haven't _gone away."

He put one hand over his eyes in frustration. "Jesus Christ, Devon. This is _not _happening." He set her away from him and looked at her, his eyes intense. "I _love _you. More than I've ever loved _any _girl. And _that _is saying something."

"Dick..." She began. "You don't understand."

"I'm trying to. I _really, really _am."

"I don't – care. I don't care what I said – before. I don't care if you – _distract _me. I don't care if my grandmother disapproves..."

He looked hopeful. "You don't?"

"I was – stupid to – well, stupid to – stupid about everything," She finished finally, and looked down. "I don't want to throw this away. You know – _us. _I don't want to throw _us_ away."

He gave a slow smile. "So, does that mean you're going to tell your grandmother about – us?"

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Are you crazy? No, no. She has to stay in the dark."

"Okay, then. That's – your choice, I guess. For now. You _will _have to tell her sometime, you know."

She sighed. "I know. Just not now. Maybe when I graduate."

"That's a year and a half away! Oh, and _by the way_, what's this about you being an undecided major?"

She grimaced. "Yeah. I've been thinking about it. I don't – love science, Dick. I was just majoring in it because of my parents and because I thought that it would get me," she shrugged, "a decent job."

"Wait? Your parents?" He realized that he knew almost _nothing _about her.

She looked at him for a long moment, silent, with indecision on her face. She didn't know how much she should tell him.

She sighed again. There were already so many secrets that she was keeping – she should try to be as honest as possible in all the ways that she could be.

"My – parents were doctors."

He frowned. Her online files had never mentioned that.

She gave him a quick look to gauge his reaction, and continued. "I know. You're wondering how the kid of two doctors ended up so damn poor."

He shook his head. "I didn't think that."

She lifted one shoulder. "I have. Hundreds of times."

"What happened? To them, I mean. How did they – die?" Even though he knew, he thought that she needed to discuss it.

"You know there was a fire, right? Did I tell you?"

"Yeah, I know." He ignored the second half of that question.

She drew in a deep breath. "They were – medical doctors, like I said, but they were really both researchers. I don't even know if they ever even practiced medicine. I don't think they did." She was silent a moment. "Well, anyway, they were bio-genetic researchers. I think they worked for the Centers for Disease Control at some point – but I don't know that for sure, either."

"You could find out. _I _could find out."

She shook her head. "Don't bother. It wouldn't make a difference anyway. Why would it? Anyway, they were researchers, and they had my sister, Ingrid. And when she was about – three, I think, she was diagnosed with cancer." She shook her head again. "I don't even know what kind. Something – terrible – but, let's be honest, there isn't such a thing as a _good _cancer." Another pause, and then she continued. Dick's hand was holding hers, and his eyes were sympathetic as he listened to her. "And, when my parents found out, they – quit their jobs and went to work for a pharmaceutical company. A company that wanted to cure cancer."

"So they became cancer researchers?"

She nodded. "Yeah. They started working with stem cells and prions and phages and – other things that I don't even know about – all looking for a way to cure Ingrid."

"And?"

"They weren't successful. At least not completely."

"Did she go into remission?"

"Partial remission. The cancer cells decreased, but weren't obliterated. And, from what my grandmother said, my parents were – desperate."

"So what happened?"

"I was – born. To cure Ingrid."

"What do you mean?"

A rueful half smile came to her face. _All in, Devon_, she thought. "I was a living – bank for my sister. An almost endless supply of stem cells and – blood and everything. I was a perfect match. In every way."

A confused look came over his face. "What do you mean? Are you a – clone?" He was afraid to ask.

She shook her head slowly. "No. A clone would have had the _real _danger of getting cancer, too. No. I'm not a clone. But I was – _engineered._ They – my parents – wanted to make sure that I was born with the things they knew Ingrid needed – match for blood type, bone marrow, etc. They did a little bit of pre-conception tinkering, I guess you would say."

"Wow."

"Yeah. I was _created _and _born _for one purpose – to save my sister."

"Did – did that bother you?"

She shrugged. "I didn't know _anything _about it. I was – oblivious. I only know that," she sighed, "I ended up with an abnormal fear of needles. Have you ever seen an intraosseous needle? It's _huge_."

"That's the kind that goes right into the bone?"

"Yeah."

"Ouch."

"Especially for a young kid."

"So what happened – with your parents?"

She shrugged. "They were making _a lot _of progress with a lot of things – and made some breakthroughs. The pharmaceutical company was _thrilled_, but Ingrid was still sick, and they realized that it was only a matter of time for her unless – they made a _big_ breakthrough."

"D – did they?" The tale had Dick enthralled.

She shook her head. "I – don't know. They – died not long after that. All three of them."

"Were you – there?"

It was time for a little omission. "No. I was – with my grandmother. I don't really remember any of it. All I know is that the fire destroyed the house and the labs."

"You _lived _at the labs?"

A small smile came to her face. "No. We actually lived, believe it or not, on the site of an unused nuclear power plant. It had been built but, before it opened, the community banded together and protested – successfully – so there was never any nuclear material there. It was – perfect for my parents. They built a small house on the grounds right next to the laboratories, and it was great for them. For us, I guess."

"What caused the fire?"

Another shrug. "It started in the lab, and the flammable materials combusted and blew up the house, too. The investigators thought it was faulty tubing, combined with carelessness."

"I'm – sorry."

"Me, too. I just feel lucky that I was with my grandmother – and that I have her."

He looked down at their entwined hands. "Are you sure you don't want to tell her about – us?"

She leaned forward and kissed his chin. "No. I will – someday. But right now, I just want to keep you for myself."

* * *

**Blüdhaven**

**The Next Morning**

**December 15****th**

Devon came to wakefulness slowly. Before she even opened her eyes, she felt Dick in the bed next to her – warm and hard.

She looked up at the ceiling. Sunlight that had escaped the blinds made bright lines above her, and she smiled. It was a sunny day. It was a sunny December morning, and she was waking up, for the first time in her life, with someone she loved.

She turned on her side towards him and watched him sleep. This was the closest she had ever been to him in the daylight, and she peered closely at him. His long lashes, the stubble in the cleft in his perfect chin, lips that looked made for kissing, thick, black brows, a nose that was straight and strong – perfect. And that was just his face!

_My God, he's beautiful_, she thought.

She continued her perusal. The scars that she had glimpsed only in the weak light of her bedside lamp were very prominent in the morning sun, and she traced them softly. They were, like she had once said, a roadmap crisscrossing his torso, and, even as her heart tore at the obvious pain that they had all caused him, she could not help but thrill to the thought that he had received them in the pursuit of heroic acts.

His abdominal muscles were well-defined and – perfect. He was simply – perfect.

She placed her hand beside his and compared them. He had long, tapered fingers with well-groomed nails, with only a light dusting of hair on his fingers. Nothing brutish about Dick Grayson.

His arms were strong and corded with muscles visible even in his relaxed state, and she gently pressed a kiss to one of his biceps.

With a sigh, she climbed out of bed and stretched.

"Why did you stop?" A sleepy voice came from behind her, and she swiveled in surprise.

"I didn't know you were awake."

"Well, I wasn't at first." He rolled onto his back and pillowed his head on his hands, his arms crossed behind him.

She grabbed her discarded T-shirt and panties and slid them on.

"Ah. You didn't have to do that." He protested, and she laughed as she walked to the window.

"Well, I don't have to do this, either, but I will." She pulled the blinds up, and he gave a strangled groan and turned, hand over his eyes, as sunlight flooded the room.

Laughing, she ran to the bed and threw herself next to him. "Don't you dare curl up in a ball!" She grabbed his shoulder and pushed him onto his back. "It has taken me _months_ to get you in the light, and I am going to enjoy looking at you!"

He laughed and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her on top of him. "What exactly do you want to look at, my love?"

"What do you have to offer?"

"Hmm. I _do _have _a lot _to offer, I must admit."

"Oh, _really_? Prove it."

* * *

An hour later, their roles were reversed, and Dick was investigating Devon's body. His fingers and lips were everywhere, and she punctuated his exploration with giggles and breathy sighs and soft moans.

"I have to say that I like waking up with you." She smiled as he trailed a finger down to her belly button.

"Am I the best person you've woken up with?" He asked cheekily.

"You're the _only _person I've ever woken up with."

Startled, he stopped his perusal. "What?"

She shrugged, and her naked breasts bobbed up, a detail _not _missed by her lover. "I've only had two boyfriends, Dick. You know that. And I never spent the night with either of them. Everything we did was in the back of a car or in their dorm rooms."

His eyes were wide. "_Really_?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"No. I – guess not."

"Oh, God." Her eyes opened wider than his. "How many women have been in this bed?"

He looked down at his hand and shook his head slightly, guiltily.

"_Dick Grayson_. Tell me."

His eyes were pleading. "No more than four or five – _I swear._"

Although her eyes bulged, she regained her composure. "Well. Four or five. That's not too bad. As long as you don't add the word '_hundred_' on to your sentence."

He laughed. "I would have to replace the bed."

She gave him a soft kick in his back, and he fell forward with a laugh.

After a few minutes of kissing, he pulled away, and she trailed her finger down his nose. "So tell me about Batgirl – who I'm _guessing _is Barbara Gordon. And who I am _also _guessing is the redhead you brought to the diner – _and _the _woman who broke your heart_." She used air quotes.

He paled. "Damn. You know a lot."

She gave a treacly smile. "The internet is a beautiful thing."

"Shit."

"Go on."

He sighed and slumped back. "Yeah. You're right. On all counts. Babs – _Barbara _and I – dated."

Her brows lifted. "_Dated_?"

"Okay. Not dated so much as_ kinda_ lived together. Almost. Not quite. She never got mail here or anything."

"Uh-huh. I see. Really – go on."

He shook his head wearily. "And I – neglected her, and did some stupid things, and – she left me."

"And you spiraled into meaningless partying and rebound sex."

"Shit. Were you there?" He asked in mock seriousness.

She slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Smart ass."

He became somber. "Yeah, it's true. I – made a lot of bad choices. Which I will _not _do again." he added hastily.

"How'd you snap out of it – the bad boy behavior?"

He smiled again. "Bruce. He beat it out of me – figuratively speaking. For the most part."

She looked horrified. "I won't have to meet him, will I?"

"He's not that scary."

"I'll take your word for it."

"You won't have to take my word for it. I'm thinking _Christmas _is a good time to introduce you to the family."

"Hmm. You may want to rethink that. Remember Thanksgiving with your family."

"No kidding. But it did lead to the best Thanksgiving sex I've ever had."

A look of dismay crossed her face. "Do you have a lot of Thanksgiving sex to compare it to?"

He blushed. "Er – uh. No?"

She covered her face with her hands. "God!"

Seeking to change the subject, he leaned over and kissed her on the slightly rounded mound of her stomach, and she purred in contentment.

He began inching down her abdomen. "Hey. What's all this?" He noticed tiny scars all over her stomach, and, then noticed the same on the tops of her thighs.

"What's all what?" She asked.

"These – scars. They look like little – cuts or something. And – jabs."

"What?" She peered down at herself, and he indicated the marks. "Oh. Huh. I don't know. Probably just scars from – falling off bikes and – stuff." She ended lamely.

"There are a lot." He noted, touching several in turn.

"Well, my grandmother always said that I was active."

"Yeah. I guess." He left his perusal and smiled up at her.

Her phone began ringing, and, pulse quickening, she grabbed it. _Please, please, please don't let it be Larry!_

It was her grandmother, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Speak of the devil." She smiled at Dick and answered the phone. "Hey, Grandma."

"Devon. You're all right. Thank God! You didn't come home!"

Devon's brows drew down, and she rolled over, away from Dick, trying to get distance.

Distance, however, was alien to Dick. With a smile that she could not see, he followed and pressed his lips to the small of her naked back.

"I told you I might not." Devon hissed into the phone.

"You _also _told me that you were going to _call _me if you _did_ stay out!" Her grandmother reminded her. "You're being _very _irresponsible!"

"Ugh!" Devon gave a little shriek of frustration and ended the call.

Dick's lips slid down and laid a kiss at the base of her back. "Everything okay?"

She took a deep breath. "I promised my grandmother I would call if I stayed out."

"So she's mad."

"Yeah. Apparently." Her voice was dry.

"Maybe you should call her back."

"No!" Her voice was sharp. "I won't talk to her when she's in a bad mood."

"She's not the only one."

"Uh." She allowed her face to fall onto the bed. With the mattress muffling her voice, she spoke. "She thinks I'm still sixteen."

She could feel his hands go up to her shoulders and squeeze them comfortingly. "You should tell her about us." He whispered in her ear. "Maybe she'll feel better about you staying out all night."

"And you'll tell _Batman _about us?" Sarcasm was evident in her voice.

"Love, he _knows _about you."

She turned over and looked at him in astonishment. "_What_?"

He grinned. "They _all _know."

"You – you _told _them about me? I thought you said – at Christmas..." She was confused, but felt a rush of pleasure.

"I want to _introduce _you to them at Christmas."

"But you _told _them about me?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, it wasn't _me _exactly. It was Jason. I told him, and he told them – on Thanksgiving."

"The night you had the fight?" Her happiness began to ebb. "What? Was I some sort of _weapon _that he used against you?"

His smile melted. "No. That's not how it was. Really."

She turned away from him, hurt and upset.

He gave a deep sigh and leaned over her. "It really wasn't. _Really_. It's true that no one – _knew _about us, but it was _okay _when they found out."

"So – your _father _is okay with us?" Her voice was bitter.

He was silent for a long moment, and she took that as his answer.

"He's not." She tried to rise, but he stopped her.

"Devon. Love. He doesn't _know _you. Once he does –"

"Once he does, he'll _approve_ of me for his number one sidekick? Is there some sort of _vetting_ process that I'll need to go through? An application or a – _background _check?"

He dropped his arms and she stood and whirled to look at him, incongruous in her anger and nudity.

"I'm not his sidekick anymore." He growled, his jaw set.

"Well, you could have fooled me." She said petulantly, and grabbed her panties.

"What does _that _mean?"

"It means that it seems like you can't _breathe _without getting his permission."

His face twisted in anger. "Where the hell did you get that from? _When _have I _ever _acted that way with you?"

She stopped and looked at him. "Never mind. Don't worry about it. Look, this was great. Okay?" She found her clothes and began putting them on. "Maybe I'll call you sometime." She began hunting for her shoes.

His eyes widened. "Devon! Do _not _leave. Do not leave this apartment!" He climbed off the bed, as well.

"Do _not _tell me what I _can_ and _cannot _do. I'll leave if I want to – unless you intend to hold me here against my will. Would _Bruce _approve of that?"

"Oh, Christ! Devon! What the hell is going on? Why are you being so –" he searched for the right word, "_belligerent _all of a sudden?"

She stopped looking for her shoes and looked at him. "_Belligerent_? _I_ am not being belligerent." She picked up a bed pillow and threw it at him.

He swatted it away. "Oh, yeah. Not belligerent at all."

She took a deep breath. "I'm just going to – go." She found both shoes, and, after putting them on, left the bedroom.

Her purse was by the front door, and she started to unlock the door, sliding back the various deadbolts and other security measures.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

He sighed. "How are you going to get home? Gotham's a half hour away."

"A bus or a taxi or – I'll walk."

He came up behind her and put a hand on the door, preventing her from opening it. "You aren't going to walk home."

"Let me go, Dick." Her voice was low.

He came between her and the door. "I don't want you to go. Look – I'm sorry. I'm sorry that Bruce is a _paranoid _douchebag. I'm sorry that I am sometimes, too. And I'm sorry that I kept you a secret from them. _You _kept me a secret from your grandmother. You still _are_."

"I didn't think she'd approve of me _banging _a masked vigilante in my bedroom!" She hissed.

"And I didn't think _Batman _would approve of me banging anyone at all as _Nightwing_."

They glared at one another until he finally sighed. "I didn't want to _share _you – in any way. I kind of still don't. I told you that. You – you're – my _sanctuary_. You're the one I go to when I feel like shit. I can _lose _myself when I'm with you. I know it sounds _ridiculous _when I say this, considering our history, but, when I'm with you, I'm not _Nightwing_, and I'm not Bruce's son or, you know, the future CEO of Wayne Enterprises or – any of that. I'm just – me. I'm just – Dick."

She watched him throughout his speech, and the ire slowly left her face, to be replaced by fondness and gentle exasperation. "I – I can't take you seriously when you're standing there naked." She whispered.

"But I _am _very serious." He smiled, and lifted his hands to frame her face. "And I'll introduce you at Christmas. To everyone. And, maybe, you'll introduce me to your grandmother by New Year's?"

She gave a chagrined smile. "How about Groundhog's Day?"

* * *

She was awakened by a feathery kiss on her temple, and her eyes fluttered open.

"I made breakfast. You want any?" Dick was bent over her.

She glanced at the clock and saw that it said 11:30. "It's late for breakfast."

"Call it brunch."

She shook her head. "Not right now. But thank you."

He sat on the side of the bed. "Are you okay?"

"Remind me not to eat cold pad Thai at three in the morning." She noticed that he was dressed in sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Just for a run."

"Haven't you gotten enough exercise?"

"Consider this circuit training. I'm now working out an entirely different set of muscles."

"Isn't it snowing?"

He turned to look out the window. "Just a little."

"You're going running – in the snow."

"A little snow never stopped a Bat."

"Is that what you call yourselves?"

"Yeah. Cute, right?" He kissed her ear.

"Very sexy."

"I'll be back soon. Will you still be naked when I get back?"

"Probably. If you aren't gone too long."

"I'll run fast."

She dropped back onto the pillow. "Suit yourself."

He kissed her on the shoulder blade. "Get some rest. You're going to need it."

After he had gone, she lay there for a long while, luxuriating in the aching muscles and in the sheer joy of being in his bed, and in his _life_.

He was so – incredible. That was the only word to describe him. He was almost too unbelievable to be true. He was ridiculously good-looking, and smart, and an amazing lover, and – a nice guy.

And she was betraying him.

She sat up suddenly, trying to escape from her thoughts, but she couldn't.

She couldn't escape from the memory of having him in the sight of the sniper rifle, or the memory of his body seizing and then slumping after she had tased him.

She couldn't escape from the hours she had worked on her aim or the time that one of her shots had come close to his brother.

She should leave. She should leave and let him go and never see him again; that would be kinder – to both of them – when he found out the truth.

Because he would. He was an apprentice to the greatest detective on Earth. Of course he would.

But she wouldn't leave. She wouldn't because she wanted to spend as much time as possible with him before it all came crashing down on her head.

She was living on borrowed time.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So here you go – this is the first chance that these two have had to be "in love." These are their halcyon, honeymoon days. It may not last (yeah – it won't). And they had a little fight.

You (and Dick) also got to learn a little about Devon's background – it becomes important, actually, in Part 2, which, I'll admit, is a LONG way off. The part about the unused nuclear power plant in based, partially, on real life. There is an unused, unfinished nuclear power plant in Satsop, Washington. It literally looms large over the area, although now it is an industrial park rather than a nuclear power plant - thank goodness!

PLEASE review. I now have a desire to be among the most reviewed YJ fics, which seems do-able!

Thank you SO MUCH!


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